The Fall
by TheQuietAwakening
Summary: He fell into darkness with seemingly no way out, he fell into a love that could never be. What does Draco do when he is sent to kill the one person he vowed to keep safe? AU Sixth Year Dramione - Finished!
1. The Plan

**Hey guys! My first fic Pretty Little Choices, has been on hold for a little while. I'm a little stuck because I have another couple months to cover before the ending and nothing to fill them with. Please review on my last chapter of that story or message me to let me know if I should leave it where it is or give it some sort of rushed ending covering the last couple months. I won't do anything to that story until you let me know so please tell me what you think!**

 **This story has quite a few chapters that are pre written and is almost complete now so the posting schedule should be pretty regular and hopefully I will have an ending for you. Here's the first chapter!**

 **Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling.**

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1997 – February 16

Heart pounding, thoughts racing, muscles tensed. The blonde haired boy crouched behind a bookshelf in the library, watching, waiting. This was where he knew she would be. Between two books separated by a couple of inches, he had the perfect view. She sat at a table with two of her so called friends who, at the moment, were pushing their own work in front of her so she could do it for them.

He scowled. Those boys only cared that she was smart. She was too kind for her own good and they took advantage.

He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, rehearsing the plan in his head. Nothing had gone as it was supposed to. This was wrong. The more he thought, the more he questioned. He had tried. He had worked so hard to prevent exactly this. He had to fix it. He was the only one who knew the gravity of the situation. No one else could help. He was on his own in this. He had a mission, a terrible mission, one that he had recklessly decided to change. He knew that it was stupid. His entire upbringing had told him that the mission he had been given was necessary, an honour even, but he now knew differently. Even though his choice might mean death, in this moment, he was strangely okay with that.

He watched as she examined each parchment, making notes and adjustments every few seconds. Her back was turned to him, so he couldn't see her face, but he could imagine the look of concentration that must be on it. He knew she had her own work still to do but she put it aside to finish her friends' essays while they talked to each other in hushed voices. They had been in the library for a couple of hours now and the two boys seemed very anxious to leave. He himself was anxious too, but for different reasons. His knees ached from being in the same position for so long, but still, he waited and watched in silence.

She handed each boy their essay back and they stood up to leave.

"You go on," she told them. "I still have work to finish."

"Are you sure?" the dark haired boy asked.

As if he truly cared. If they did, they would treat her like human being instead of a homework machine.

"I'm sure. I'll see you later," she said. She sounded tired. That would make his plan slightly easier.

When the two boys left, his scowl deepened. They were so stupid! How could they leave her alone like that? With no one else in the library but her, she was open and vulnerable. Did they not realize that there was a war going on? They thought because they were at Hogwarts they were safe. He knew better. Nowhere was safe, not even Hogwarts. Especially not for Hermione Granger.

Draco clutched his wand at his side. He went over once again everything he needed to do, eyes glued to Hermione form as she pulled out a book and started reading. It wouldn't be long now. He didn't want to hurt her, but he needed to keep her safe.

The sun had faded long before and the night seemed to get darker with every minute that passed. Or maybe that was just his soul, trying to hold on to the last bit of light in his life that he had been sent to burn out. With everything in him, he knew that if he completed his assigned mission, his light would be gone and nothing could bring him back. His soul would go black and his life would be drained to nothing but the shell of his body.

Soon, her fatigue closed in and Hermione's head drooped onto her open book, unable to stay awake any longer. This was it.

Shaking, Draco stood up, not even noticing the stiffness in his legs from crouching for hours. He took a deep breath and headed towards her sleeping form. Out of habit, he looked around before coming out from between the shelves. Nobody would be out at this hour of the night.

He came to stand in front of her. She looked so peaceful and he was determined to keep it that way. Draco raised his wand.

" _Stupefy,"_ he whispered.

He needed to make sure she stayed asleep for the escape. Quickly, he cast a disillusionment charm over himself and then Hermione, before scooping her sleeping body into his arms. She was warm against him and smelled like lavender. He hated that this was the first time, and probably the last time, he would hold her in his arms; while he was kidnapping her. Granted, he was kidnapping her for her own safety, so it wasn't all bad was it?

Silently, he slipped out of the library and made his way down the corridors. He had to get off Hogwarts grounds so he could disapparate. The hall was dark and deserted, just as he had known it would be. Draco was thankful for the darkness. Even though they were disillusioned, it would never be perfect. It made him feel a bit more in control, even if the world was chaos around him. The silence seemed to grow into a loud pounding of constant thoughts, mostly of panic.

What was he doing? He had a girl in is arms who he was kidnapping! This was insane, this plan, pure insanity. He was directly disobeying orders from the Dark Lord himself.

 _Calm down._ He told himself. _You're never going to get out of this if you don't keep a level head._ Draco repeated these thoughts as he moved through the corridor. Slowly, the panic that had spread through his body dissipated into determination. He had already started and he wasn't about to give up now.

Draco froze. Someone was coming. He pressed himself against the wall in hopes that whoever it was would simply pass him by. It was Filch. He stopped directly in front of Draco when his cat, Mrs. Norris began to growl in his direction. The man looked around, eyes squinted, and Draco held his breath.

"Come on. No one here," he growled.

Draco let out his breath in relief as Filch moved away, mumbling to his cat. He stayed still until the man was well gone before finally continuing down the hall. _So much for staying calm,_ he thought, feeling his heart racing in his chest.

When he finally met the cold February air, it felt like freedom. He had made it out of the castle, the hardest part of the plan. Draco took a deep breath and continued down the hill towards the forbidden forest, which was the easiest place to disapparate from without being noticed.

Draco couldn't believe he had actually done it. It didn't seem like something he would normally do, actually, completely outside of his personality. Since when did he care about another's life more than his own? Since when had Draco Malfoy gone soft? It was probably the first time he was forced to torture somebody. That event had shattered his already broken soul into a million pieces. He hated who he was forced to become.

He reached the edge of the forest and hesitated. He hated that place, ever since that detention in first year when he had been made to wander the wretched woods with Potter. It felt so long ago, yet, the forest still brought back the memories.

With a nod of his head, Draco entered the forest. Broken branches and twigs snapped underfoot, the frozen ground crunching with every step. He knew he had to hurry. Whereas he was too stressed to notice the cold, Hermione was not dressed to be outside right now. Draco pulled her tighter against him and quickened his pace.

Once he was sure he was far enough from the castle, he closed his eyes, concentrated on where he wanted to go, and turned on the spot. The feeling of disapparation always left Draco feeling a bit nauseous, but there was no time for that now. He found himself on familiar land and finally was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

He stood in front of an inconspicuous looking log cabin in the middle of a more comforting set of woods. Draco took Hermione inside and to a bedroom, where he gently laid her on the bed and slid her wand from her pocket. He lifted the disillusionment charms and quickly left. She would be waking soon and he didn't want to be around when she did. Draco walked back outside, and moved far enough away from the cabin in the woods to make a large boundary, muttering a few spells to make a ward around the property before going back in and entering his own room.

He sat down on the bed and held his head in his hands, the weight of what he had just done hitting him like a tidal wave. One, he had defied the Dark Lord and would most likely be killed. Two, he had just kidnapped Hermione Granger. Three, Hermione hated him, and thought he hated her. There was no good in this situation as far as Draco could see. Fear filled him as he thought of what would happen to him if the other Death Eaters found out what he had done. He would be tortured, that was for sure. And then he would be killed in probably the most painful way those twisted people could think of. How could he hide this? Could he tell his master that he had completed his task? Would he know that it wasn't? It could even end up worse for him if he were to be caught lying to the Dark Lord himself.

"What did I do? What did I do? What did I do? What did I do?" he whispered repeatedly to himself. Had he just thrown his life away by making this rash decision? These thoughts terrified him, yet consumed his mind. All of this for a girl who hated him.

Draco hadn't even thought about what he would do when she woke up. She would be confused. She wouldn't know where she was, only that she wasn't at Hogwarts anymore. And once she found out he was the one who brought her there, she would probably be terrified, not to mention furious.

He had bought the cabin off the grid, no one to know where it was or that he even had it. It had been his place of peace and sanctuary when he couldn't handle to be in his own home. He had no house elves working there because he wanted to be the only person to know the cabin existed. He had learned the basics of how to survive on his own. And even though things were a bit too muggle for his liking, during the breaks when he was forced to be at Malfoy manor, it was the place he could retreat to. With the Dark Lord using the manor for his own purposes, being within its walls was sickening. Nothing could get the screams followed be the maniacal laughter of his aunt Bella out of his head. That woman enjoyed causing pain far too much and made him cringe just to think about it.

Draco wondered if Hermione had woken yet. How should he treat her now that he had kidnapped her? He thought that she would expect for him to be his terrible self and if he acted any differently, it would be strange. He also needed to emotionally distance himself from the witch. Draco didn't think he could handle it if Hermione found out why he did what he did. It would be better for both of them if she continued to hate him. It would be easier on everyone when he died.

He sighed and decided that he should probably go and check on her to make sure everything was okay and explain that hopefully, she wasn't going to get hurt.

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 **Author's Note:**

 **So that was the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! Please review to let me know what you think. It means so much to an author even to say just a couple words saying if you liked it or not. I'm excited to start this journey with you guys!**


	2. The Confusion

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the brilliant mind behind the Harry Potter world, I just roll with it.**

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 _I must have fallen asleep at library,_ Hermione thought as she groggily opened her eyes. She had a massive headache and her muscles felt strange and stiff. Coming to the awareness of her surroundings, she realized that she was not in Hogwarts. Frantically, she looked around the room she was in, searching for clues as to where she was.

It was a small room with light green walls, a brown wooden wardrobe along the wall across from her, a small book case with only a few books on is shelves, and a window on the left side of the room. Hermione was thoroughly confused. She was lying in a rather comfortable, yet completely unfamiliar bed, in a strange room with a headache and no recollection of how she got there. Her heart began to quicken it's pace. What had happened to her? Had she been kidnapped? If so, who would have captured her? Why would they have taken her? How did they get her away from Hogwarts? It was supposed to be safe there! Why was she in this bedroom instead of the dungeon she thought of under the consideration of being kidnapped?

She tried to concentrate on the last thing she remembered. She recalled being in the library with Harry and Ron. She had been slightly annoyed that they asked her to look over their Defense Against the Dark Arts essays when she still had so much work to do herself, but they had pleaded with her so she had given in. They left after she gave them their work back, she remembered that. Then she had opened her textbook for Arithmancy. She absolutely loved the class but the text was such a boring thing to read, and she had an essay to write for the class. She must have fallen asleep because she didn't remember anything after that.

Hermione's body told her that she had been hit with a stupefying curse, probably after she had already fallen asleep. How had they gotten her out of Hogwarts? Surely there was a lot of protection against such things, especially now that Voldemort had returned.

Slowly, she slipped off the bed and moved to the window, her muscles aching with every step, head spinning slightly. Maybe she could see something that would give her a sense of her location. Her heart dropped when she found only trees as far as she could see. It was still dark outside, but Hermione could tell that the sun was nearly rising from the glow that came over the horizon.

Then, she had an idea. Her wand, where was her wand? Did she still have it? Why hadn't she clooked for it earlier?! Checking the pocket of her robes where she normally kept it, she found it missing. Without much hope of finding it, she thoroughly checked every inch of the room to no avail. Finally, she collapsed back onto the bed.

Hermione thought of anybody who would want to kidnap her. All of the possibilities made her skin crawl, but none of them made sense with her current situation. She was stuck in the middle between fear and confusion. Anyone capturing her for Voldemort would have kept her, a muggle-born somewhere much less comfortable, but she couldn't think of anyone else who would take her from Hogwarts. What would Voldemort even want with her? Sure she was close to Harry, but wouldn't he want to deal with someone of "better" status?

The door creaked behind her and Hermione whipped her head around to see who it was, instantly regretting the fast motion as it sent another wave of dizziness hit. Who she saw sent terror flooding through her. Was Harry right? Was he a death eater? What did this mean? Was he here to bring her before Voldemort himself?

"Relax Granger," Malfoy scoffed. "No one's going to hurt you."

"Then why am I here?" she demanded to know.

"Can't say exactly," he replied. His tone turned a bit of Hermione's fear to annoyance.

"And why can't you tell me Malfoy?"

"Just can't. But get cozy cause you'll be here a while," he told her.

"Excuse me? You can't keep me here. People will notice my absence!"

"Well they won't find you!" he sneered.

"What do you want from me?!" Hermione yelled.

Hermione saw something strange flash in Malfoy's eyes, but in a second, it was gone and he was storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. She stared after him in frustration. What was going on here? That was when she noticed the plate of food on the night table.

Why would he give her food? Was it poisoned? It didn't make sense that someone would go through all the trouble of kidnapping her and putting her in this comfortable room if they were just going to kill her.

Hermione was so conflicted. Was Malfoy the one who had kidnapped her? Was he working for Voldemort like Harry suspected? Her stomach growled hungrily. She hadn't eaten in quite a while. Should she eat the food? It truly did smell delicious, but Malfoy had given it to her. What if it had some kind of terrible potion in it, not to kill her, but just to make her suffer? That would be more like Malfoy. He would never willingly provide sustenance for her; someone of such 'low' blood status. Hermione decided that she would hold out. She would not give Malfoy the satisfaction of her falling for his tricks.

 _May as well try to find a way out of here._ She decided. She headed to the door and stared at the knob. Maybe he had been too flustered when he had stormed out to lock it. Timidly, she wrapped her hand around the knob, half expecting to be shocked or burned by some kind of spell. Nothing happened. She turned the knob, and nothing. It wasn't as though her hopes had been overly high on the door being unlocked. She had been kidnapped after all. Hermione chuckled ruefully at her own stupidity. Of course Malfoy would be sure to lock the door. He couldn't have her escaping because of his own temper or forgetfulness, especially if he was working for Voldemort and for some reason he wanted her there and alive.

Sighing, Hermione moved back over to the window and examined its edges. The glass seemed much thicker than the average window and appeared to be impossible to break without magic. She looked around the room and put one hand to her head as if that would stop the pounding there, or help her to think of a solution. The book shelf. Maybe that had some clues as to where she was, who was holding her, or why. Maybe some way of contacting her friends would be opened up to her. Reading almost always gave her solutions to her problems.

Hermione crouched down beside the small bookcase and examined the titles of the few books that lay there. They were mostly wizard fiction novels, and to her surprise, a couple muggle titles sat amongst them. None would be very helpful to her predicament, but they could pass the time while she was stuck there. She slid one of the wizard novels she had never heard of before off the shelf. It was an old looking, leather book, binding beginning to fray. She guessed that Malfoy wouldn't waste his good books on her. With the book in hand, she climbed back onto the bed and opened it.

The words were faded and the pages smelled dusty, but that wasn't why she couldn't concentrate on getting past even the first sentence. Hermione could not turn off her ever working mind. This was all so strange, and the very short encounter with Malfoy was even stranger. Why had he told her that no one was going to hurt her? It almost seemed as though he was concerned. No, that was a ridiculous thought. There was no way that Malfoy was concerned about her. The statement just made her question even more, why the hell was she kidnapped? If she wasn't going to be hurt, that did mean she wasn't going to be tortured for information, hopefully she wasn't going to be killed. Why did he tell her that? Hermione's eyes drifted over to the plate of food beside her, longing to eat it. Maybe he wanted her to let down her guard so that she wouldn't be expecting what was coming.

Then there was that look that only lasted for a moment. There was a softness behind his eyes, a look of frustration, of confliction. Maybe he really couldn't tell her why she was there. Would it really make that big of a difference to whatever plan they had if she knew? Hermione hated not knowing things, hated not being in control of the situation.

But why had Malfoy looked at her like that? She didn't know what it meant. Had it been pity for what was about to happen? A thought struck her with terror. What if she had been kidnapped to lure Harry out of Hogwarts to come after her? What if there was a trap waiting for him if he tried to rescue her? What if Harry was killed because of her? Now she desperately hoped that her friends had enough sense to let the adults handle this; but she knew in her heart that they weren't. If they got word of where she was or where they thought she was, they would come after her themselves.

Suddenly, what happened to her no longer really mattered. She had to get out for her friends or at least send them word that she was alright and not to come after her. The book she was holding dropped onto her lap. Hermione was disgusted with herself. How could she give up that easily? How could she settle for passing the time by reading an old book when her friends could be in mortal danger? She felt sick, not only from the headache that was pounding now more than ever but from her own stupidity. Why couldn't she have realized this earlier? When Malfoy had come in, maybe she could have jumped him and made her escape. She knew he probably had his wand and would curse her without a second thought, but at least she would have tried; at least she might have had some more information on where she was or what was going on! Malfoy may have magic, but Hermione was the top of the class, above even him. She knew he could definitely keep up with her, but maybe she could take him if she outsmarted him, if she really planned ahead.

Hermione looked around the room again, searching for some kind of weapon. The only thing she could see was a hard cover book. It would take a whole lot of force and the element of surprise, but it was worth a shot. She left the bed and walked over to grab the book. She had an idea. It might be completely insane and possibly get her killed, but at least she wouldn't just be sitting by and letting herself be used to get her friends to walk into a trap that would probably kill them.

She stood beside the door, muscles tense and ready. Hermione didn't know how long it would be until someone checked on her again, but when they did, she would be ready. She closed her eyes and pictured it. The book in her hands would surely break a nose and give her a few seconds of a head start. Not knowing the layout of wherever it was she was being kept could prove to be a difficulty in her escape, but she was a quick thinker so she was confident that she could figure it out. Once outside, she would run far enough away not to be caught up in any wards that were around the place, as it was certain there would be wards. From there, she could disapparate… that was where her plan ended and her heart dropped. She didn't have a wand. She couldn't disapparate and she didn't even know where she was. Was she even still in Britain? There was no way to be sure. Still, if she could get away, maybe she could find a town or village and contact her friends, and better yet, Dumbledore.

Hermione took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult, and possibly stupid. With adrenaline already pumping through her veins, making her heart beat fast and breathing deepen, she just wanted to get this over with. She took a deep breath and banged on the door. Maybe that would help speed things up. She couldn't wait there like this forever.

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 **So, I decided to post another chapter this week, just to get things rolling. Thanks for reading! A big thanks to FortyFandoms for my first review! The past couple of days have been pretty crappy. I injured my back at work yesterday (I work at a pajama store so it was very unexpected), and today I am so very sick with the flu! Please give me some reviews to make my day a little better!**


	3. The Attempt

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling created the world of Harry Potter, not me**

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1994 - December

 _Fourth year had been absolutely awful so far. Draco knew he shouldn't let it get to him but Potter was so full of himself. How did he even get his name into the Goblet of Fire, let alone actually have it chosen! He had obviously cheated his way into the competition. Draco had gotten himself much too worked up about it he knew, but it wasn't as if he could help it. The already famous boy did not need any more attention. He was already getting far too much where Draco was concerned. It wasn't like he actually did anything to defeat the Dark Lord, he was only a baby! Everyone treated him like a bloody hero when he did absolutely nothing. Now he was in this stupid tournament and not only was he avoiding and serious injury which would have made it at least a bit more entertaining, but he was actually doing well! It was horrifying to think that he could gain even more popularity so Draco was supporting Diggory, just because it gave him a chance to bash Potter._

 _Even worse was what had occurred after Draco had lost his temper. He just couldn't handle it anymore and snapped! As he was about to curse Potter, that new professor Moody showed up and turned him into a ferret! It was the strangest feeling and even though he would never tell a soul, it was terrifying. Before he knew it, he was being tossed around, bouncing up and down at the mercy of the professor. For the first time, he was completely helpless and vulnerable and he hated it. Draco had never been so thankful for Professor McGonagall's strict attitude as he was when she stepped in for him._

 _He would never live that event down. It was something for Potter and Weasley to use against him. He didn't worry too much about it spreading around to the girls as Granger wasn't as petty as those boys. Secretly, he admired her for being able to control herself so well when he and his friends insulted her, though he could see the fire in her eyes. She had only lost it that one time when she had punched him in the face. That had been quite the shock to have a Mudblood girl hurt him like that. Who knew the girl could actually stand up for herself and her friends! If anyone found out that he actually admired something about the Mudblood he would be shunned, so he had to keep it to himself._

 _Now Draco was at the Yule ball dancing with a proper pureblood. He was trying to have a nice night and forget for a moment all the frustrating things that were happening that year, but Pansy Parkinson was probably one of the most annoying people he had to hang around with. He was supposed to be with her but her clinginess was getting so irritating and every once and a while she would lean in and make a dirty comment about what she'd much rather be doing with him. Draco wondered how much make-up the girl had smeared on the side of his face from these unpleasant moments as her skin was simply layered with the stuff. Sure she looked nice, but when she got too close, it looked almost painted._

 _When Draco could no longer take another second with her, he politely excused himself and made his way off to the side where he could spend a little time alone. Finally, he could breath without Pansy's heavily perfumed body clinging to his._

 _That was when Hermione Granger made her entrance to the ball. And what an entrance it was. Draco had never seen her like this before; in a lovely dress, with a little make-up and her hair tamed and styled. She could even pass as a pureblood looking like that._

 _Draco scolded himself. He could not be thinking that the Mudblood was beautiful. Mudblood and beauty were not supposed to go along in his mind. No, the Mudblood wasn't supposed to even enter his mind except for annoyance and displeasure with her existence. For some unknown reason, those proper thoughts refused to come and all Draco could picture was an image of himself dancing with her. He made sure to keep his face neutral so no one else would pick up on his awe towards her tonight. Surely he was going mad. Maybe he was sick, coming down with the flu. Then why was he suddenly so angry at the sight of Victor Krum leading her onto the dance floor? He looked away, scowling. What was wrong with him? If any of his family found out about this he would be punished for sure and his friends… well, rumours would spread around Slytherin and he would end up going to classes and eating meals alone. He was Draco Malfoy, and Malfoys were always popular. He wasn't going to be the one to break that tradition too. His parents were already angry with him for letting the Mudblood get higher grades than him in school._

 _Draco tried so hard to keep his gaze on other things but his eyes kept wandering back to her. When Pansy ended up talking to some other Slytherin girl in close proximity to Granger, the difference between the two were astounding. Pansy was beautiful, yes, but completely fake and obnoxious. Granger was genuinely beautiful, with little effort it seemed. She was soft and graceful in her movements. Draco shook his head as an insane last resort to try knock these thoughts out of his head._

 _That was when Pansy spotted him and yanked him back to the dance floor where people blocked his view of Granger, much to his relief, easing the intensity of his preposterous distraction._

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1997

What had he been thinking? Draco's short encounter with Hermione had made him realize that this was going to be a lot harder than he had thought. Hermione Granger was not some stupid trophy girl who only cared about herself. She was smart and thoughtful. He should have known that she wouldn't be satisfied with just knowing that she wasn't going to be hurt, especially not from him. It was clear what she thought of him. Hermione hated him, that was for sure. She thought he was evil, untrustworthy. He couldn't blame her, he thought much the same of himself. He had wanted to tell her what was going on, but he just couldn't. She wouldn't understand, she would be too curious and ask about his intentions. She would be confused and probably angry. Draco wondered if she would be afraid of him if she knew the whole story.

The look in her eyes when she saw him ripped him apart. Gryffindors. Showing their emotions all over their face. In Hermione's, Draco saw fear, anger, confusion, hatred. It killed him that it was his fault all this was happening to her. He should have controlled himself more, controlled his desires, his actions, his emotions. Because he was a death eater, Hermione was in more danger than she could possibly understand. Draco worried that if she knew even a little, that she would push for more and end up learning too much. That information could potentially put her in even more danger should she be discovered.

Draco sat at the kitchen table staring at his own untouched breakfast. Why had he made her breakfast? Hermione was smart, she could read into that! But he couldn't just let her starve either. He wondered if she had actually eaten it or left it on the night table where he had put it. Considering their relationship at the moment, she probably thought it was poisoned or something. _That's not your problem._ He told himself. _If she doesn't want to eat, it's her choice. Not your problem._

Draco wondered what Potter had been telling her about him. He knew that Potter suspected him of being a death eater, and he was right. Knowing Hermione, she was already planning an escape. If only he had just told her exactly what was going on, she would know that it was much safer to be exactly where she was! But there was no way he was going to tell her that. Draco didn't know what to do. He wanted to keep her safe, but he was conflicted on how best to do that. He knew she wouldn't stay put if he didn't tell her the truth. Maybe he could tell her some of the facts, just enough so she's satisfied. Maybe she wouldn't figure anything out. Perhaps that would solve the problem.

Draco sighed and pushed out his chair, getting ready to stand up and go face Hermione again. That was when he heard the thumping on the door coming from the room she was in. _This is it_ , he thought. _Here comes her attempt at escape._ He should have been expecting from the very beginning the trouble this would cause, that she would try to escape. He had to be ready to stop her. She couldn't get away. If the other death eaters or the Dark Lord himself found out that he had not completed his mission and if they found her, she would most likely be tortured to death. Draco knew that he had to tell her something to make sure she stayed safe.

He stood up and walked over to stand on the other side of the door he knew she was waiting behind. Bracing himself for whatever was about to come, he opened the door. Before he could even think, there was a book being slammed in his face and Hermione rushed past him.

"Damn it!" Draco yelled, holding his now bleeding nose, eyes watering at the pain. He shouldn't have given those books to her, or at least have thought to only give her ones with soft covers. He had just thought it would make this better on her, but instead, he had handed her a weapon.

He spun and ran after her, tasting his blood as it ran into his mouth. Draco had his wand drawn and quickly caught up to her running form. The cabin was small and she was already close to the door when he reached her.

" _Colloshoo,"_ he said, and immediately after being hit, Hermione's feet stuck to the floor, making her unable to move. " _Episkey, tergo,"_ he mumbled, fixing his broken nose and clearing away the blood from his face.

"Granger!" he yelled. "Are you insane?!"

"Let me go this instant!" she shouted back. She looked around, taking in her surroundings.

"No, I will not let you go. You girls can't get everything you want now can you," Draco told her sarcastically.

"Where is everyone else?" she demanded.

"No one else is here," Draco sneered. Hermione's eyes grew large and he could see fear.

"What do want from me? What are you going to do?" she asked.

Draco sighed. "Nothing." Then he added, "Unless you want me to do something." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"You are disgusting!" she yelled, to which Draco smirked. Hopefully acting this way would make her overlook the next part.

"Then why am I here? Why did you kidnap me?"

"Look," he started, being more serious. "You are much safer here right now than out there." He gestured towards the door.

"And why is that?" she asked skeptically.

"You should know by now that nowhere is safe for a witch like you, not even Hogwarts," Draco scoffed. He felt horrible about saying the words. It was harsh, but true. At least he didn't call her a mudblood like he used to.

"Well, the way I'm seeing it is that _you're_ the only reason I'm not safe. _You_ are the one who kidnapped me! I may not know what you are planning, but nobody is going to use me to get to my friends. I will get out of here!" she yelled.

Draco groaned in frustration. "Why do you think everything is about …" Wait, maybe he could use that.

"You're here because I didn't complete my mission," he told her.

"I don't understand why that has anything to do with me. That actually doesn't explain anything," Hermione said, confused.

"Well, my mission had a lot to do with you." Draco still saw a lack of comprehension on her face. He was going to have to go out and say it.

"I'm not evil you know. I don't like killing, even people like you. I was stupid so I brought you here instead," he explained.

There was a pause for a moment and Draco saw the moment when realization hit her.

"Your mission was to kill me," she said quietly.

"If you step outside that door, you will be killed for sure, and not mercifully."

Hermione nodded her understanding, but stayed quiet and Draco could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she thought about her predicament.

"So, can I let you go now?" he asked. "You won't try to escape?"

"I won't try to escape," she assured him. He nodded and released her. "Why didn't you kill me?" she questioned.

"Because I'm a coward and can't kill a classmate, even if we do hate each other," he replied harshly.

"That's not cowardly," she almost whispered. "What happens now?"

"Now, you stay here and don't leave. You can go anywhere in the cabin except my room," Draco told her, slightly afraid that he had given her too much leeway.

"I have to tell Harry and Ron what's going on," Hermione said.

"No, you can't. Somehow, I have to make everyone believe you're dead," Draco tried to explain.

"You will not!" she yelled. "I will not allow you to fake my death!"

"If I don't, I'll be tortured and probably killed!" he yelled back. "Also, no one will know where you are so you will run out of food and starve to death," he added.

Hermione was silent and bit her lip, thinking. "Okay," she said finally.

"Okay?" he questioned. She nodded.

This surprised Draco. He was expecting much more of a fight than that. This was the first time he himself had been on the receiving end of Hermione's famous kindness and it made him feel sick. She was willing to give up everything for while, just so that he wouldn't face the horrible consequences, even when she hated him. He guessed that it could have been self preservation, but if he knew anything about Hermione Granger it was her willingness to help _anyone_ in need. This attitude was going to end up getting her killed one day, especially if she kept following Potter into this war.

"Why does Voldemort want me dead?" she asked.

Draco flinched at the name of the Dark Lord. "You should take it as a compliment," he semi joked thinking of something to tell her that she would believe. "He thinks you're one of the reasons he can't get to Potter. You're too smart and keep figuring things out Potter would never figure out on his own." He tried to sound like he hated saying it. This was all a complete lie, but it was better than the truth. The truth that he was the only reason she was in this mess.

"What are you going to do?"

"Change out of your clothes. There are some other ones in the wardrobe. If we put blood on the clothes you were wearing last night at the library and put them out in the forbidden forest for someone to find, they'll come to the right conclusion. Hopefully," he explained. It was a pretty good plan, but it was not in the slightest foolproof. Plus, it meant that he had to hurt Hermione again to get her blood on the clothes.

Hermione nodded, then said, "It has to be my blood doesn't it."

"Yes," he stated, sounding unaffected. They both knew that was the only thing that would sell it. Her tattered clothes weren't enough. They would test to see if it was her blood for sure, and there would need to be a decent amount of it to be convincing.

"Alright," she agreed. "We should do this as soon as possible to make it convincing. I'll go change," she said, turning to head back to her room.

Draco watched her leave, still in awe of what had just happened. _She's just doing this to save herself. She's only doing this to save herself. There isn't another option,_ he told himself, as if it made him less horrible of a person. What he wouldn't give to know what she was thinking. He hated seeing the fear in her eyes when he told her it was only them alone in the cabin. What did she think he was going to do? Rape her? Torture her? Did she really think he was that evil? His gut twisted at the thought. _It doesn't matter what she thinks of you. It's just your job now to keep her safe, and try to keep yourself alive._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **So there's another chapter! Thanks for reading! I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas, or just a wonderful day if you don't celebrate Christmas. I got over my flu by Christmas Eve so I'm feeling much better now! A big thanks to FortyFandoms and Morganna12 for reviews on the last chapter, it means so much to me that you took the time to say a few words! I would love to know what you think of the chapter and about the story so far. Thanks again!**


	4. The Death

**Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter**

* * *

1997 - February 17

Hermione sat down on the bed, frozen still, eyes widening, a hand coming up to her mouth in shock. She could not believe this was happening. Yes, she was smart, but Harry was clever and rather lucky all on his own. For some reason she had caught the attention of the last man she wanted to; Voldemort himself. Hermione couldn't quite understand why she had been targeted. Harry had lots of friends, many people who he could count on. What was it that made her such a threat? Whatever the reason, he wanted her dead and he sent Malfoy to finish the job. As much as she hated to admit it, Malfoy had gone against his Slytherin attribute of self preservation and done something quite brave, and she did appreciate how hard that must have been for him. The decision couldn't have been an easy one.

Harry had been right that Malfoy was at least working for Voldemort. Was he a Death Eater? Hermione still wasn't completely positive, but she did know that he wasn't evil. Even though he hated her and thought that she was below him, he had spared her, putting himself in danger in the process. That did not sound like Draco Malfoy at all, but still, Hermione couldn't picture him as a killer.

Now, Malfoy's life was in danger because he had chosen to protect her. As cruel as he had been to her in the past, Hermione didn't want him to be tortured or killed, so she would help in whatever way she could. But could she really do this to Harry and Ron? Could she lead the world to believe she had been killed, knowing how much it would hurt the people she loved? Hermione knew that Malfoy didn't deserve to be punished for saving her, and justice was something she was passionate about. But he hated her. No, that shouldn't be a part of the deliberation process. Just because he hated her, doesn't mean he deserved the horrors that were to befall him if she didn't comply. He was a human being like, her, like her friends. Malfoy had a soul and a heart, and Hermione couldn't abandon him because he made some mistakes, no matter how grave those mistakes may be.

She bit her bottom lip, thinking, and looked towards the door. She had confidence that her friends would find her eventually if they kept looking, but she couldn't just leave Malfoy to face the consequences of having a conscience within a group of psychopaths. He had saved her life, and now, she owed him enough to save his.

Hermione looked to the window where the sunlight was streaming in, growing higher into the sky. Second period was probably about midway through and that meant people had undoubtedly already noticed her missing. If her absence had been noted and Malfoy was there with her, then had he been observed as absent as well? The plan to fake her death could become a problem for him if people also began to assume that he had been the one to murder her. Would Malfoy be able to go back to school until this was over? Even if Dumbledore didn't believe Malfoy was capable of such a horrible thing as murder, Harry and Ron surely would and there was a grave possibility of her friends seriously hurting him without Hermione keeping them under control. This was all such a mess!

Hermione stood up, hands fisted into balls at her side in a posture marking determination. Faking her death would be best for everyone. She concluded that the death eaters wouldn't be hunting her, her friends wouldn't fall into a trap trying to find her, Malfoy wouldn't be tortured or killed, it made sense. It would keep everyone safe. Well, except Malfoy from Harry and Ron, but the professors would prevent anything serious from happening, wouldn't they?

She walked over to the wardrobe and opened its vintage looking wooden doors, revealing several new and very expensive looking robes. This puzzled her. If Malfoy spared her in a split second decision, why would he be prepared with new women's robes? Hermione knew money was no barrier for Malfoy, but still, the number and designer quality of the robes baffled her.

With that thought of wealth came the realization that she had not seen a single house elf yet. Surely someone as rich as Draco Malfoy would have at least one. She couldn't imagine him doing anything for himself. Even so, the cabin seemed very small for a Malfoy property telling her that she should have at least spotted an elf. The food that he had brought for her crossed her mind. He had brought it to her himself. Did that mean he had also prepared it? Hermione looked over at the old, untouched food still sitting on the night table where Malfoy had left it and began to feel rather bad. Of course, at the time, he hadn't told her the full story. If he had, she might have realized the logic that if he hadn't killed her then, there was no reason for him to hurt her now. Hermione still questioned why Malfoy had made her food in the first place. Surely he didn't care about her enough for that.

Hermione sighed and began changing into one of the new robes. The material was soft against her skin and unlike anything she had ever worn before. It was probably worth more than she had in her entire vault! With one more deep breath, she headed back out of the room where she knew Malfoy was waiting for her.

"Let's get this over with," she said, handing him her old clothes.

Malfoy promptly charmed them into shreds that she could imagine the possibility of being torn apart by some sort of animal. He set them aside, and Hermione held out her hand to him, knowing what came next. This was the most trust she had ever put in Malfoy and she had to admit, it frightened her. Much more tenderly than she expected, he cupped her hand in his own, shocking her at its warmth and the comfort it seemed to bring. She looked up at him and found him staring down at her, a strange, almost softness in his eyes. She quickly retreated her eyes towards the ground, unsure of what was going on or what she should be feeling.

Hermione still had a headache and was feeling slightly dizzy, making her consider that this may not be the best idea. No, she had already decided that she was going to do this. It was best for everyone and they needed to do it now. She wasn't about to back down from this.

"Just do it," she whispered.

He pointed his wand at her hand and mumbled the spell. Hermione sucked in a breath, hissing in pain as a deep cut spread across her hand, blood pooling in her palm, the spell he used causing more to flow from the wound. Malfoy handed her back her clothes.

Suddenly, the light-headedness she had felt earlier began to grow steadily worse. There was quite a bit of blood that she was putting on the clothes to make it convincing, but she wasn't losing enough for that to be the only cause. She tried to think about what could be making her feel this way but it was getting increasingly difficult to focus on anything as the room began to spin. Was it food, or lack there of? She had been far too busy doing research the previous night and had foregone dinner due to losing track of time. Then this morning, she had brilliantly chosen not to eat the breakfast that Malfoy had made her. Even this small blood loss was making her feel extremely faint. Maybe it was simply the sight of the blood combined with all the other factors, she didn't know. All she was certain of was that she should probably be sitting down somewhere.

Then, she was falling. And Malfoy was calling her name, the sound growing farther away.

"Granger? Granger?!"

She felt arms come around her and then she was flying. Wait, maybe she was being carried. Her back hit something firm. No, it was soft. The bed.

"Hermione! Stay with me," he told her, sounding quite urgent.

He had called her Hermione. She liked that. Why did she like that? She found it strange that she would like him using her name. He was gone for a moment, but he returned again shortly.

"Drink this," he ordered, handing her something in a small bottle. Hermione felt so weak though, she didn't want to move her arm all the way up to get it and put it to her mouth. The whole process seemed so exhausting. Suddenly, she felt it being pushed to her lips and the disgusting taste of the liquid as its thick form made its way into her mouth. She was feeling very tired. Another bottle was pressed to her mouth and she drank that too, not having enough energy to think about what he was giving her or if it would poison her or not.

She was made to drink a third potion, this one clearing her head a bit and she was feeling a bit of strength returning. But her head was pounding more than ever and she was feeling slightly nauseous. Hermione looked at Malfoy, who was still beside her, surprised to see an expression of genuine concern across his face.

"I'll go get you some more food and some water," he said quietly, scooping up the untouched plate on his way out.

Since when did Malfoy _care_ what happened to _her_? He already explained that the only reason he had spared her was because he couldn't bring himself to kill a classmate. His concern was probably only due to the effort he had already put in to save her. Perhaps he didn't want to waste his act of chivalry. She sat up, leaning her back against the head board of the bed, her fingers massaging her throbbing temples.

Hermione wondered if people had begun to be worried about her at school. Surely they'd noticed by now that she was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if her friends were searching the school for her or if they just sat down for lunch expecting her to come join them. Maybe they thought she had taken up her common ground at the library. She closed her eyes. Hermione missed her friends already and figured she was going to be in hiding for a while. Hermione couldn't see how she would be safe to leave until the war was completely over and who know how long that could take. The thought brought tears to her eyes. Voldemort had gotten his way anyways. She wasn't going to be able to be there for Harry through this as she had promised from the start. Would they ever forgive her? Surely they would. If Hermione didn't stay where she was, the Death Eaters would be specifically hunting her, and Malfoy had proven that she wasn't even safe at Hogwarts.

She had been so naïve to think that no one could be hurt by this war while they were inside the school. Sure, there was protection, but there was so much that the professors were unaware of. She had been kidnapped, and as far as anyone else would know, killed.

Then there was Malfoy. Sure he was a jerk but, he hadn't truly insulted her since they'd been alone. Now that she though of it, he hadn't called her a 'mudblood' in a while, even before all this began. Was he starting to question his prejudices?

Hermione couldn't think about this right now. It was much easier to know that he hated her because that made sense. It had always been that way. Even though it hurt sometimes, she was used to being treated like trash by him and his recent behaviour was a bit disconcerting. She couldn't believe that he was actually preparing food for her, and on his own no less. It just seemed so out of character. She shouldn't be complaining though. Hermione wouldn't rather the thought of being locked without food so she guessed this was alright.

The weight of everything that was happening weighed down on her. The fear of what was going to occur if they were found, the knowledge of what she was going to be putting her friends through, the fact that she was going to have to give up everything for the time being including seeing the people she loved, all for someone who hated her, was slightly overwhelming. As hard as she tried, she couldn't help the single tear that ran down her cheek. Maybe it was just the stress of this whole situation. Hermione took a deep breath. She couldn't let Malfoy return and see how much this was affecting her.

* * *

Draco was furious with himself. He should have known something like this would happen. He should have expected Hermione not to have eaten the breakfast he gave her and insisted that she eat something before they started any of this madness. What he really should have done was told her those small pieces of the story when he had first talked with her. All these terrible things happening to her continued to be his fault. He just kept hurting her, no matter how hard he tried to keep her safe. Draco had promised her that no one was going to hurt her, yet, he was the one who had done exactly that.

He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart. He had been so worried when she collapsed. Draco had shown far too much emotion and even called her by her first name by accident! This was bad. Maybe she had been too out of it to notice anything.

He had carried her to the bed and rushed around the cabin trying to find anything that might help. He hadn't known exactly what was wrong, but he could guess. Had it been the blood? Had he taken too much? Was it the lack of food? When was the last time she ate? He didn't remember seeing her at dinner the previous night so it had probably been at least 24 hours since her last meal. What about water? He hadn't given her anything to drink. Was she dehydrated and that was the problem? Could it have been a side effect of the spell he had used to bring her there that night? Draco saw all of these possibilities as his fault and he had to fix it.

He made her a very simple lunch to save time, as well as to avoid any suspicion of his intentions. If he had made her anything too special, she would know that something was off. He poured her a large glass of water, grabbed the fresh plate of food, and carried it to Hermione's bedroom.

Upon entering the room, Draco noticed her watery eyes. Had she been crying? He hated to think of the emotional turmoil he was putting her through. Who knew how long it would be before she could see her friends and family again, plus, she had to stay there with him, a boy who she hated. Draco halted the strong desire growing within him to comfort her and placed the food and water on the night table beside the bed again.

"Actually eat it this time," he sneered and left the room without another glance back. He knew it was callous, but it was how it had to be to cover up for his mistakes earlier. Hopefully, she would understand what he was trying to tell her. He had to act like he didn't care.

Draco had a job to do. He scooped Hermione's bloody clothes off the kitchen table and disillusioned himself as he prepared to disapparate from the cabin back to the Forbidden Forest. He took a deep breath and turned on the spot.

The forest wasn't nearly as frightening in the day time, though it was still fairly dark from the cover of trees. How could he place the clothes so it would be convincing? He had to do this quickly as he didn't want to be caught holding bloody clothes by some hungry animal looking to devour him.

Draco spotted a hole leading down into a small cave in the base of a tree. _Perfect._ With the torn and bloody clothes, he made a sort of trail leading down into the cave as though some wild animal had ripped apart her body underground, and made drag marks with his feet. He sure hoped people would believe it for his sake and Hermione's.

He looked down the path that lead towards the castle. Should he be in class? That would probably be the smart thing to do. People might already suspect his involvement in Hermione's disappearance since he missed his first two periods and was nowhere to be found for the first part of the day, but perhaps Dumbledore would stand up for the fact that he wasn't a killer. Was it worth a try? If he didn't, it would be obvious that he was involved and he didn't want to be a hunted man.

With a flick of his wand, he cleaned himself of any blood and headed up to the school, still disillusioned as he exited the forest. How was he going to explain his absence? Could he use the excuse that he hadn't been feeling well in the morning? That explanation would work for everyone else, however, the Slytherins would be able to tell the lie. Though, if they recognized his probable involvement in the 'death' of Hermione Granger, most would give him high fives and congratulate him on his feat. It was disgusting what many of them thought of people like her, what _he_ used to think of her.

Once he reached the castle, Draco ran to his room, grabbed his books, and rushed off to his third-period class, dreading the rest of the day.

He sat down at the back of the room beside Blaise in Transfigurations class, wondering if Potter or Weasley had told anyone of Hermione's absence. He could see them near the middle of the room looking around as if they expected her to walk in at any minute. Every once and a while they would whisper anxiously to one another and look around again. Had they even told the professors yet? Draco was becoming annoyed with them. What if she was being held somewhere, being tortured and they were just sitting around, doing nothing but being a little worried?

"Where were you this morning?" Blaise asked quietly.

"Wasn't feeling well," he responded mechanically.

"Ah, I see. Did you have a fun one last night?" Blaise questioned suggestively.

"Something like that," Draco replied.

"Who was she?" His friend's eyebrows bounced, waiting for a name so he could have a disgusting image in his mind.

McGonagall started the class, saving Draco from having to answer. There was no way he was going to get anything out of the class that day. It wasn't like he could concentrate what with everything that was going on. It didn't help that Potter and Weasley kept taking turns glaring at him as if they knew he had something to do with Hermione's disappearance.

His next class wasn't much better. The day went by in a haze where Draco couldn't get his head out of his thoughts long enough to focus on anything. He couldn't believe that no one was talking about Hermione's absence yet. She really needed to find some better friends. It wasn't as if she would ever miss a class unless something serious had happened.

Draco wanted so badly to be able to go back to Hermione at the cabin, but he was surrounded by people who had other priorities at the moment. Still, he searched for an opportunity to make his escape.

Draco knew it would be best to stay at the school or else even more people would suspect him, but the way he had left Hermione, he needed to check on her and make sure she was alright. He finally managed to squirm his way out of his Slytherin group and approached the forest again, glad to be away from people who wanted to know all about this girl who had made him miss two classes in the morning. That girl was Hermione, the one he had 'murdered'.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Well, there's chapter 4! Thanks to all who read it! I apologize for anything that was a bit unrealistic, I tried to make it as real as possible but it needed to happen for plot reasons. I hope it was alright! I would love to hear any suggestions on how to improve if you have them, or just a few words of encouragement would be greatly appreciated as well. Thanks to negativecreep91 for the review on Chapter 3! I will be posting weekly but I have other chapters written so if I get enough reviews asking me to, I can post another earlier than that. Thanks again!**


	5. The Name

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the wonderful world of magic isn't my own creation, it's JK Rowling's**

* * *

1997

The food and water Malfoy had given her had revived Hermione quite a bit and she was feeling much better. How could she have let something like this happen? She should have known that something wasn't right. How could she have been so stupid? Slowly, the headache began to disappear and the room completely stopped its spinning.

The way Malfoy was acting was utterly confusing to her. He was a total git then suddenly acting like he cared. One minute he was helping her to recover, giving her potions, healing her wounded hand, making her food, and the next, he was rude and storming out. He hadn't returned so Hermione assumed that either he really did not want to see her again right now, or he had gone to plant the clothes that marked her death.

Cautiously, she got up from the bed, deciding to take a look around the place where she was apparently going to be living for a while. The door squeaked as it opened and she walked down the now familiar hallway. Part of the way down the hall, there was a door that she had been too focused on escaping to notice last time. She poked her head inside and found it was a bathroom. It was always a good thing to know where that was. Hermione continued walking down the corridor which soon opened into a kitchen on one side and a sitting room on the other. The kitchen was quite small and kind of homey with wooden cupboards along one wall hanging over simple counter. There was a break in the wall of cupboards over the sink, where there was a window letting in some natural sunlight. In front of the preparation areas was a round white table with two chairs. This again seemed strange. It was as if he knew she was going to be there and had prepared for an extra person. She may also be reading _far_ too much into everything. Why wouldn't Malfoy be prepared to host guests in the cabin?

Hermione shook off the confusing thoughts and moved into the joined room where there was a tan leather sofa in front of a large window, a similar coloured lazy-boy chair, and a coffee table in the center. Off the sitting room were two more doors. One of them she knew would be Malfoy's bedroom, but the other she was unsure of. Cautiously, she opened the door on the right, peaking her head around the corner. Her eyes grew large and a small smile spread across her face. It was a library.

Hermione opened the door wider and stepped inside the seemingly out of place room. She didn't think the typical cabin contained a library, but then again, she knew Malfoy was interested in the more sophisticated aspects of life. Multiple shelves stacked full with books lined each wall, surrounding two comfortable looking chairs sitting in the center. Slowly, she moved around the room, dragging her fingers over the spines and examining the titles of both novels and educational content. This would make everything much more pleasant and less boring. She left the room a bit happier, knowing that she was going to spend a lot of time there.

Behind the next door was probably Malfoy's bedroom; the one room he had explicitly told her she was unwelcome to. Her curiosity begged her for a sneak a peak and she stood between the doors thinking for a moment. Would he ever even know? _No,_ she told herself. _It's not right. That is his personal space, the place where he is allowed to be himself and feel safe._ But oh, how she wanted to know. A bedroom could tell so much about a person, what they care about, who they are away from the rest of the word. It was very private. Hermione defied her temptation and made to sit down on one of the sofas.

The cabin was much smaller than something she expected from a Malfoy. The furniture seemed rather old, though it was well kept, and definitely not designer material. Being wealthy as he was, Hermione wondered why the Malfoys would have such a property.

Hermione was surprised that Malfoy wasn't back yet. Not that she cared. But still, she wanted to know what was happening. Had he placed the bloody clothes in the forest? Maybe he went into the castle for classes. It was what she would do. It was a bit smarter than staying away perhaps. People may have less reason to believe he was involved in her disappearance if he didn't run away. If he went to his classes, would he even come back that night? Did she want him to come back? _I don't care._ There was probably food somewhere that she could make for herself. She would be fine for at least a short while.

Her mind drifted back to earlier that day. Malfoy had used her first name. Why was that so significant? Why did that mean anything to her? It was an unexpected situation and it probably just slipped out. Still, he had never called her Hermione before. She had been quite out of sorts at the time, however, that didn't explain the strangeness not only of the name he had called her, but of her own thoughts when she heard him say it. It sounded nice, like he was somehow different when he used her first name. That was ridiculous, wasn't it? He was the same cruel boy who had always told her how inadequate she was, how she didn't belong in the world of magic.

As time went on, she began thinking less about Malfoy and more about her friends. She hated being there, unaware of what was going on at the school. Had they found the evidence yet? How would her friends take it? They would be alright as long as they had each other, wouldn't they? She hated this waiting. It made horrible images appear in her mind, such as Hagrid most likely being the one to find the bloody clothes. Poor Hagrid had such a good heart and she didn't want him to be the one to discover her death.

She wondered what the investigation would be like. Would the professors blame themselves for letting this happen at the school?

She had to stop thinking so much. She retrieved a book on advance charms from the small library and tried reading again, but her thoughts were too strong and overpowered whatever the book saying.

Hermione heard the door open and was on immediate alert. It was probably just Malfoy, but who else knew about the place? Should she hide? Should she find a weapon? Why hadn't she thought of this before!

When she saw Malfoy come around the corner, she breathed a sigh of relief. She knew he wasn't going to hurt her whereas other acquaintances of his wouldn't hesitate. With one look at her, he walked right by, heading towards his room.

"Wait," she called.

He froze, one hand clenching the handle of the door.

"Please tell me what's happening," she asked quietly.

Malfoy seemed to visibly exhale as if he just wanted to get by her into his room without a conversation. Well a conversation was necessary. Hermione needed answers.

"I planted the clothes in the forest with drag marks leading down to an underground cave. I went to my afternoon classes and yes, your idiot friends have noticed you gone and already blame me, but funny enough haven't told anyone about any of it yet. It's a real good thing you're here and not somewhere worse because you wouldn't be found for while," he explained harshly. "Hey, maybe by tomorrow they'll get started on a search or something. Maybe they'll just move on without even trying."

That last statement hung heavy in the air and made Hermione feel as though she were suffocating. Surely her friends would do something about her absence, especially in this war; this war where people like her, muggle-borns, were being killed for sport. She thought they would be more worried.

The door clicked shut and Malfoy was gone. _Well good ridden,_ she thought, and got up to go to her own room. He didn't need to tell her that! He didn't have to imply what he had! Her friends cared! It had only been one day. In the muggle world, that wasn't even long enough to consider a person missing. Why should she believe anything Malfoy told her anyway? He was just trying to make her feel bad, just trying to get a rise out of her. Well, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Still, the words hurt. Why hadn't they gone to the professors yet? They knew she would never miss a class, and she wasn't showing up to meals like usual either. Surely they would be trying to find her. Even if they hadn't gone to the professors, Harry and Ron were very big on doing things on their own. But something this serious?

 _No, I will not allow Malfoy to get to me,_ she decided as tears were threatening to fall. He either didn't know the whole truth or was lying. Her friends would have noticed and they would have been trying to find her. She curled up on the bed, willing herself not to cry. After everything she had gone through in the last day, Malfoy had to throw it in her face, he had to try to make her believe that her friends didn't care about her. They did, they did care. Malfoy was just being cruel. That was the Malfoy she expected, that was the Malfoy who was now keeping her alive.

* * *

1995 - February

 _It was the second task of the triwizard tournament and Draco, among some of his fellow Slytherins had come, supporting Cedric. When they announced who the champions would be saving, Draco was surprised to hear Granger's name be called, and even more surprised with his own reaction. Supposedly, she was the one who Krum would miss the most and for some reason, this bothered him. He had to get this out of his head! It had been a while since the Yule ball at Christmas but Draco was having a lot of problems thinking of Granger as the gross mudblood he was supposed to. He was supposed to want to insult her, want to make her upset, but now, strangely, he didn't. He had to do it anyway to keep up appearances. He couldn't let anybody else find out about his little attraction. That was all this was. He needed to ignore this and focus on himself again, but now, it seemed as though her life was in the hands of Krum and he couldn't think of anything else._

 _He tried to convince himself that there was nothing wrong with this arrangement, that it was actually a good thing, that he could laugh while the mudblood drowned and act disappointed when she was saved. Something deep inside him cringed at the thought. He stared out at the water where he knew Granger was already submerged and found himself wondering if she was alright. No. He turned his head determinedly back to his friends who were being entertained by Potter's tardiness._

 _Potter was late for his big event and Weasley was going to be waiting down in the lake while his rescuer got his beauty sleep. How fitting. They were supposed to be diving in the lake at any minute and Potter was nowhere to be seen. Some people were getting a little antsy. Maybe he wouldn't make it._

 _That was when Potter ran in all huffing for breath, apologizing in his pathetic way and telling them he was ready. It was quite hilarious to watch._

 _Finally, the clock started and the champions dove in. It was so much more boring than he had expected. They couldn't even see what was going on! It was cold outside and they were just sitting there, waiting. Draco wanted to see the hostages tied there under the water, he wanted to see the excitement of any obstacles the champions had to go through to rescue them. Hostages. Granger was one of those hostages. Draco subtly looked over at Dumbledore. Surely he wouldn't actually let anything happen to them, would he? He scolded himself. No, he should not be thinking of Granger that way! He could not be concerned for her welfare! He didn't care what happened to her! He couldn't. He'd be socially dead if his friends found out, and possibly physically injured if his parents found out. This was so against the rules. It was the worst form of disobedience he could possibly commit! Draco had to control himself. This was all just some silly little attraction._

 _Granger was beautiful. He admitted that. If any other Slytherin got their nose out of their prejudices they would see that too. But she had dirty blood, she didn't even deserve to carry a wand. She wasn't a real witch. Draco told himself that the only reason she was able to play the part was because she was smart and manipulative. Wasn't that what he was always taught? Those_ _mudbloods stole their magic and the ones to get away with it must be pretty intelligent to make up for what they lack in magical abilities, abilities that were not rightfully theirs. So yes, Granger was beautiful, she was smart, and he had a small attraction to her. The real problem came in where he started to question everything he was told about people like her. Draco had seen her work with magic and she didn't seem less capable than anyone else. He couldn't keep thinking like this! Of course, she was undeserving, and was intelligent enough to make the other houses think that she was a real witch._

 _Those old arguments that Draco kept rolling around and around in his head in an attempt to convince himself of Granger's inadequacy just wouldn't stick, and as time went on, he felt his heart rate increase. Worry, concern. He wasn't supposed to be having these feelings for a mudblood! Her safety wasn't supposed to matter to him!_

 _Time seemed to inch by ever so slowly. Finally, Cedric broke the surface with Cho Chang. Draco cheered along with his friends, but was secretly still watching the surface for Granger. Why did this bother him so much to think that she might be in danger? He didn't like it one bit._

 _Once Krum reached the surface with Granger, he noticeably relaxed. Now, hopefully, he could enjoy the rest of the time with his friends, without thinking about her. That was the goal anyway. He needed to stump this attraction before it grew into anything. Not like it ever was going to. Draco tried to forget about her and celebrated Cedric's win._

* * *

1997

Draco sat on his bed, running his fingers through his hair. How could he say that to her? He knew he was supposed to be treating her badly to keep her from seeing the truth, but that was just cruel and unnecessary. To tell her that her friends would just get over her and move on without even trying to look for her? How could he say something like that? Well, he had now done his job of keeping her hating him that was for sure. She just wanted to know what was going on, to know how her friends were, that they were alright. And there he went telling her that they didn't even care. In his mind, they really _didn't_ care enough, but he couldn't be telling her that.

There he went again, hurting Hermione when he had vowed not to. He wanted to fix this but he wasn't sure how to do that without _showing_ his care. Ugh, this was all so frustrating. Not only did he do this to himself, he kept doing it to Hermione.

It was getting late and Draco was definitely hungry, wondering if Hermione was as well. He got up from the bed and hoped that she wouldn't still be outside his door. He would make dinner and if she wanted to eat it she could, or not. He wasn't supposed to care.

Slowly, he opened the door, relieved to see Hermione had, in fact, left. It would make preparing the dinner so much easier. He moved into the kitchen and got out the ingredients. At first he hated doing things for himself, it was so much of a hassle. He always used to use magic to make it easier, but now, he found the monotonous slicing and chopping somewhat relaxing. It cleared his mind and helped him think logically about things.

Draco was expecting to be called to the Dark Lord within the next week or so. This thought terrified him and he needed something to keep his mind from going back to all of his problems and worries. Would he be able to hide his mind from him? He had to believe he could. If he couldn't, it would mean a very painful death for both Hermione and himself.

Soon, he had two plates of food ready. He took one and sat down at the table, stuffing a bite into his mouth. He chewed slowly, wondering what Hermione was doing at that moment, what she was thinking. If she was hungry, would she come out and get some food? Would she let herself go hungry just because she didn't want to see him? Hermione was smart, but she was also stubborn.

He looked at the plate of food sitting on the counter and sighed, put down his fork and stood up to take the food to her. He wouldn't stay, or speak to her, just drop off the food. Draco grabbed it and this time knocked on the door, just in case. When there was no response, he just walked in, carrying the plate over to the night table again.

Hermione was curled up on the bed, facing away from him.

"Just stay away from me!" She sounded both hurt and angry.

"I'm bringing you food Granger," he told her, annoyed.

"Oh," she said softly and turned her head to face him though she wouldn't meet his eye. "Thanks."

Without saying another word, as was his plan, he placed the food on the table and turned to leave.

"Hermione." Draco froze as she said her own name. He didn't look back at her. She sounded a little uncertain as she continued. "You called me Hermione earlier."

Draco knew exactly what she was talking about. He had hoped she would have been too out of it to remember, but apparently she did. In his panic, he had slipped and called her by her first name, which he had never done before; at least not out loud. He wondered what her point of bringing it up was. Did she want to humiliate him? Surely she didn't want a conversation with him, especially after what he had told her. Maybe she was just curious. She hadn't asked a question per say, but it was implied. She wanted a reason. Why was this such a big deal to her? Why was her need to know so strong that she had to bring it up, even after he had said what he did to her?

What could he say? There was no way to tell her any sort of truth as to the reason. He had been using her first name all year in his head, and he worked very hard to keep from slipping up. It had just started to seem almost disrespectful to her to keep thinking of her as Granger, and besides, Hermione was a strong and beautiful name, well reflecting the person she had become. But now, it all seemed to backfire.

"Just thought you'd respond to it better is all," he finally replied and quickly exited the room, shutting the door behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut in an exaggerated wince at his own words. Surely she would see right through that and he did not like the possible outcome of her usual insight.

* * *

Hermione stared after Malfoy as he left the room. He had paused in answering and in that moment of silence, she could see a hint of panic in his eyes. None of this made any sense! Maybe she was just seeing things. He saved her life, then treated her like trash, when she collapsed, he didn't hesitate to help, but then he said cruel things just to hurt her before making her dinner and bringing it to her. Maybe all those things that may seem to be caring were a just her own imagination, that they were really only to keep her alive because his conscience wouldn't let her die. Maybe nothing had changed and he was just as nasty as he always had been.

Although, he had not looked calm and rational when she had collapsed. Quite the opposite really. Logic would have added up to his answer, not the concerned panic that he had shown. She may not have been all that conscious of her surroundings at the time, but she did remember his look of urgency.

Hermione didn't know why she even bothered to ask. It wasn't like he would ever give her a straight answer about something like that. If he really had been concerned for her, _which_ _he probably_ _wasn't,_ but if he was, wouldn't he had slipped back into what he usually called her? Granger? But he hadn't. In that moment, he had used her first name. Something seemed off to her.

Hermione pulled the plate off the table beside her and placed it in her lap, beginning to eat. She had to remind herself that Malfoy was making this himself, without the help of house elves. She was learning that he was much different than he made himself out to be. He hid a lot of things from the rest of the world. Maybe that was what was going on, why the contradicting actions. He was brought up to believe one thing, but it seemed as though his heart was telling him what was right was something different. Maybe he was trying to act the way he was expected to and it was conflicting with how he wanted to be acting. Perhaps Malfoy wasn't as horrible as he came across.

She put another bite into her mouth, thinking about how much he was going through if his heart was taking him in a different direction from where his life was going. Now, that didn't excuse his horrible behaviour, but it did make sense. Hermione's heart was unsure about Malfoy. After everything he had said to her, everything he had done to people she cared about, it was difficult to say that he was anything but a cruel bully. Her brain, however, told her that maybe, he was just as confused as she was.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I hope this chapter was alright. I wasn't so sure about it, didn't really like it for some reason. But oh, well. I said I would post Tuesday so I did. A big thanks to SereniteRose for the review on chapter 4! Please let me know if there is anything I could improve in this chapter. I didn't have as much time to edit this time because of work and going back to school today. I think I am going to change my updating day to Sunday to make it a bit easier to edit in time. Since University has started up again, I am going to have even less time to edit and write. Hopefully, I'll be able to stick to my weekly updating schedule, but reviews will definitely help to motivate me!**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	6. The Accusation

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the brilliance behind the magic**

* * *

1995 – Early June

 _"My father says the Dark Lord will be returning soon," Crabbe told the group excitedly. They were sitting in the Slytherin common room after a long day of classes. This statement seemed to perk a few people up. "It's only a rumour of course, but just think. Potter won't be a hero anymore and we won't have to worry about those disgusting mudbloods running around like they belong."_

 _Draco flinched at the word mudblood and instantly thought of Granger. He was brought up to think muggle-born witches and wizards were not worthy of the magic they possessed, that they were less than purebloods, or even half-bloods. They were taught all about how wonderful the Dark Lord was and the nobility of the cause that the man had been leading. Their parents told them how horrible it was that he had been defeated, that their work of bringing mudbloods to justice was destroyed by the ministry. They explained to them as kids that one day, the cause would be renewed, ridding the magical world of vermin like Granger. Now, he wasn't so sure. Was Granger less of a witch because she wasn't born to magical parents? She was beating him in nearly all of his classes. It was more than a manipulation tactic that she was smart and beautiful. Draco hated that she was making him question everything he had ever known._

 _"Granger better watch out!" Pansy chuckled._

 _Draco had to reel in his emotions so he wouldn't lose his temper. He needed to keep his cool. Nobody would understand why he was feeling the way he was; they were all too brainwashed to see the lack of logic behind what they had been taught all their lives. They would probably think he had lost his mind, they would judge him, and shun him from the social circle he had grown up in._

 _"When's it happening?" Goyle asked with a cruel smirk on his face._

 _"Father says there's something being planned for the end of the tournament," Crabbe boasted his knowledge._

 _Draco had known something strange was going on with the tournament. There was no way Potter was doing so well on his own! But why would the Dark Lord want him to do well? This didn't make much sense. The final task of the tournament was also coming very soon. Draco could feel his nerves rising. Why did this have to be happening right now? He needed to get his head back to believing the things he was taught, and fast, if he wanted to live. He'd heard stories other than the ones his parents told him; stories of torture and murder of anyone who stood in the Dark Lord's way, and he sure didn't want them to be true. If what Crabbe was saying was correct, it just got a hell of a lot more dangerous for Draco to be thinking the way he was about Granger._

 _Muggle-borns were bad, gross, disgusting; wait, no, mudbloods were bad, gross, disgusting. Draco tried to picture someone else, someone other than Granger who was a muggle-born. Bad, gross, disgusting, does not deserve to live in the world of magic._

 _Though he desperately wanted to believe the words he was repeating in his head, there was a part of himself that said, Granger wasn't any of those things._

* * *

1997 – February 21

"Mr. Malfoy." Someone was calling his name, and it wasn't his potions professor. He hadn't really been paying attention, which potentially could have lead to a disaster in this particular class, but now, McGonagall's voice pulled him out of his daze

"Mr. Malfoy," she repeated. Draco realized that the entire class was watching his peculiar unresponsiveness he wondered how many times she had been calling on him. "I need you to come with me."

This could not be good. They had probably finally found the trail he had left a few days prior and Potter and Weasley had accused him. Draco wondered what had taken them so long. It had been almost _five_ days since Hermione had gone missing! He guessed that maybe the clothes had been harder to discover than he had planned them to be. Perhaps an animal had found them and taken them elsewhere.

Each day since he had planted the clothes in the Forbidden Forest, he had been expecting and preparing for the moment when he would be questioned. He knew the two boys would be hunting for an opportunity to get him alone to find out what he had done to their precious Hermione, so Draco had made sure never to be alone and avoided her friends at all costs, unsure of the lengths they would go to for information.

Draco got up and followed the professor from the room without saying a word.

"What's this about?" he asked once they were in the corridor.

"Something terrible has happened and we need to ask you a few questions," she told him, speeding them along towards the headmaster's office. She didn't seem exactly angry with him at the moment, just very sad.

So this was it, now he would see the fallout of his actions. His stomach felt a bit queasy and his muscles began to tense as fear started to creep up inside of him. It was quite silly actually; he shouldn't be afraid of the professors when he had the Dark Lord to worry about. He was much more intimidating than the group of teachers he was likely about to face.

"What's happened?" he asked.

McGonagall sighed. "You will be informed soon enough. We are trying to find out exactly what happened, but for now, it needs to be kept quiet."

He understood what she was talking about. If they let it out right away that Hermione had been killed without finding what really occurred first, there could be a panic among the students. It made him slightly upset that this was being kept so hush. Hermione deserved more acknowledgement than that. Sure he had heard whispers of the fact that she was missing, but nobody had gone any farther than common gossip, at least to his knowledge, no one even looked for her; it was sickening.

They entered the headmaster's office, and he wasn't too surprised to see Potter and Weasley already there, talking to Dumbledore.

"Ah, Draco," the headmaster greeted him solemnly.

"You!" Weasley yelled marching towards him, wand raised. "You did this!" His face was contorted with pain and anger, tears left shiny tracks down his redder than usual face.

"Calm down Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall demanded.

"We do not know what has happened here," Dumbledore said. Then he looked between Potter and Weasley, both looking quite distraught. "It may be a good idea for you boys to take some time. We will keep you well informed and if you need anything, do not be afraid to ask."

The two boys reluctantly marched past Draco, sending deadly glares in passing, telling him that he had better watch his back. He had known it would be like this, though looking at them made Draco think that they should have appreciated Hermione more while they'd had the chance. In a strange way, the look of distress in her friends made him feel slightly better about their friendship with Hermione. Maybe they did care, they just didn't show it like they should.

"Come here Draco," the headmaster beckoned.

Draco walked over to the desk and sat down in the chair that Dumbledore motioned towards. Just then, the doors opened again and Draco's eyes widened when he saw Snape enter the room.

"Now, we can get started," Dumbledore said, crossing his hands and resting them on the desk. "When was the last time you saw Hermione Granger?"

 _A couple hours ago._ "Several days ago. Why?" Draco asked, looking around at the professors.

The greyed man cleared his throat. "A few nights ago, she went missing and last night, there was evidence found that something terrible may have happened to her."

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound confused.

"Your name has been brought up in certain discussions," Dumbledore noted carefully.

"I didn't hurt Granger." _Well, not really. Not in the way he's thinking._

"If you are in trouble, we can help you." Bloody hell! Was the old man using legilimency? Or did he just display his fear for everyone to see? He was better than that damn it! At least he was, except seemingly when it came to anything about Hermione.

Draco looked over at Snape, who he knew was a Death Eater. Would he tell the Dark Lord if he knew that he truly hadn't completed his mission? Would he kill Hermione himself? Draco didn't know what he was supposed to do. Nobody could help him now.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Draco told them. He was feeling the need to run, like he was being strangled by his own lies. "I really don't know anything about what happened," he said, then added. "But I do hope you find her." He wanted to see what they really thought.

"I'm afraid it may be too late Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall informed him. "What was found does not lend itself well to a rescue."

"You mean…" he let himself trail off and his eyes widen in fake surprise.

"We do not yet know for certain, however, it is a possibility," Snape said, looking coldly at Draco, as if in warning.

"There will be a continued search of course, but we are doubtful. What was found seems several days old," Dumbledore concluded sadly. It took everything in him to restrain from asking why people weren't informed of her absence sooner, why the extent of concern seemed to just be gossip, why did it take so long to find the clothes? Surely they weren't searching hard enough if it took them this long. Were they really not prepared for something like this or was there more to it than they were letting on?

He tried to clear his head to avoid giving anything away. At least they actually _had_ been searching for her. _Maybe_ they would have found her if she had been held in a more obvious place, such as Malfoy Manor. He wondered if they had some way of checking there, to make sure she wasn't being held captive. Draco knew all this frustration was completely unnecessary, because at the moment, Hermione was safely in hiding, but what if something _had_ happened and she _wasn't_ safe? _None of this is helping,_ he told himself.

After a moment of silence Draco asked, "Can I head back to class?"

"Yes, just remember, please, that we are attempting to keep this quiet for the time being," McGonagall said.

Draco nodded and headed out. He could not have gotten out of there fast enough. He didn't know if he could go back to class now. The feeling of shame crept up inside him, not for the first time, even that day. It was so strange how something that once felt so right, now tore him up inside. Was he a bad person? Was he a monster?

Suddenly, he was being pushed back into an empty classroom by a dark figure.

"Did you really kill her?" It was Snape. Draco's breath caught in his throat, unable to think of what he should say. The professor seemed to be having a peculiar reaction to the concept, almost as if he hoped that the deed hadn't been done. "Tell me. Did. You. Do. It." Draco stayed silent. "You are not a killer Draco. You and I both know that." When Draco again didn't say anything, Snape continued. "Tell me where she is. I can help you Draco."

"What. So you can take the credit?" he snapped.

A small smirk appeared on the older man's face and Draco knew he'd messed up. Snape had this way of getting information from people.

"So she is alive," he said, sounding almost relieved.

Draco was confused. Why was Snape relieved by that? Did he want him to be tortured? To be killed? "What do you want?" the boy asked.

"I want to help you. I understand this more than you know."

Draco didn't know what to say. How could Snape possibly understand this? He didn't want anyone to know that the cabin even existed. What could he say?

"Do not be stupid," Snape told him. "Tell me where Miss Granger is. She can be protected."

He wanted to protect Hermione? None of this made any sense.

"She's safe as long as everyone thinks she's dead," Draco said.

"The Dark Lord has ways of finding things out, ways of finding people. And when he does, how do you think you alone will be able to protect her then?"

Draco knew he probably looked terrified at the moment. It seemed that he wasn't very good at hiding his fear that the horrible images of what could happen to Hermione should she be found were invoking within him. Snape's gaze softened a bit, well, as much as the dark, cold, glare could soften.

"Are you in love with her?" The dark wizard asked. Draco didn't answer. He sighed. "Do you realize how dangerous this is?" he scolded. Draco knew all too well how dangerous the situation he was in currently was. He had no idea what he was doing or how he was going to protect Hermione. The extent of his plan had already been completed and now, he was just improvising.

"I had believed that you were better at controlling your emotions than this. You have not only endangered yourself but Miss Granger as well." Like Draco didn't know that. He was in this situation and now he didn't know how to get out.

"She must not discover how far your feelings for her go, do you understand me?" the professor continued. Draco nodded, still staying silent. "If she is found, it will be much worse for you if she knows. The Dark Lord will learn of your feelings from her and you will be punished even more severely because of it."

"And you … you won't tell him?" Draco asked, surprised at the man's seeming acceptance.

"I will keep this secret from him. Now tell me. What is your plan?"

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked, reluctant to give any information that could be fatal if fallen into the wrong hands. As much as he had grown up knowing the man, he was still a Death Eater.

"Because I am your only chance. You will not be able to protect her on your own. If you believe you can, you will be sadly mistaken. This is bigger than you could possibly imagine!" The older wizard said in frustration.

Draco still wasn't so sure. Plus, he really didn't have a solid plan at the moment.

"Don't be stupid. Don't let your own arrogance get Miss Granger killed," Snape warned.

He didn't know what to do. He had gotten himself and Hermione into quite the mess and was at a loss for what he could do, who he could trust.

The professor seemed conflicted for a moment, as if he was trying to decide what he could or should tell him. "Let me not regret this," he muttered, taking a deep breath. "What I am about to tell you must not leave this room." Draco nodded and Snape continued. "I too once loved a muggle-born."

Draco's eyes grew wide. What had happened? How had he not known about this? How had he kept it from the Dark Lord? He had so many questions. "What happened?" he asked cautiously.

An an unusual flash of emotion appeared in Snape's eyes. "She was killed because of my intel to the Dark Lord. I know what you are going through, and I have learned from past failures. So I'll tell you again. Let me help you."

Draco was shocked. How could Snape stay a Death Eater? How could he face the Dark Lord and still be on his side? He couldn't imagine the guilt if something he did caused Hermione to be killed.

He nodded once in acceptance, knowing full well that Snape was right. He would never be able to protect Hermione on his own.

"So what was your brilliant plan?" the man asked with implied sarcasm.

Draco shrugged. "Keep her where she is until this is all over I guess," he admitted.

"Stupid! What were you going to do when you were called before the Dark Lord?"

"I know occlumency. Aunt Bella taught me. Only good thing she's ever done for me. And probably anyone."

"You were expecting to use occlumency against the greatest legilimens of this age?"

"You did didn't you?" It was the only way he could have possibly been able to keep his feelings for a muggle-born a secret.

The professor paused for a moment, then replied, "Yes, but I have perfected my abilities more than you could ever hope to at this point in your life. The Dark Lord will see straight through your defences."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"Figure out what you want and do it quickly. I can only cover for you for a short while. Listen to what I tell you and do not respond when the Dark Lord calls. Now, where is she?" Snape asked.

Draco wasn't about to tell him that yet, especially in the school. He didn't trust that nobody would be able to listen in, plus, he wasn't fully convinced enough to let Snape know the exact location. And what did he mean about figuring out what he wanted?

"Not here," he said, buying himself some time.

"Fine, but the longer you wait, the more chances you are risking. I can cover you for one meeting but the Dark Lord may desire some sort of proof that the task has been completed. Be prepared." With that, Snape swept out of the classroom, leaving Draco standing alone, stunned.

Draco was so confused. How was any of this possible? Severus Snape was a Death Eater like any other. He had to admit, he did see some difference in him than the others, but still, he followed the Dark Lord's orders strictly, even some of the grislier demands. Though, he never did show pleasure in those orders. Could it be true that he had loved a muggle-born? Draco didn't understand how it went both ways. How could he love someone, then torture and kill others like her? It just didn't make sense.

How was he supposed to go back to class now, when he had even more thoughts flooding through his mind at lightning speed? Especially potions. He could literally kill someone with his current headspace. Even though Draco wanted nothing more than to go back to the isolating cabin and see Hermione, he knew it was far too early to be leaving the school. He decided he needed some time to himself anyway, even if he couldn't give in to his wishes just yet, so, he headed towards his room where he would sit in silence and could let his mind wander freely without the risk of explosion.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hey! You guys made me so sad this week! Not a single review for the last chapter? If you're reading my story and aren't really enjoying it, I would still like to know why, or how I could improve it for you! And even a couple words telling me if you are enjoying it would truly make me happy!**

 **Next week's chapter will be some more Draco/Hermione interaction so stay tuned! Thanks to everyone who is reading and I hope you have a great Sunday and an even better week!**


	7. The Dinner

**Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is not mine.**

* * *

1997 – February 28

Malfoy had been going to Hogwarts during the day and Hermione was glad. It meant the she had some time to herself. When he had been at the cabin, he either completely ignored her, are shot cold glares her direction whenever he was in the same room. She much preferred just to go back to her bedroom with the book or two she had selected during the day and not have to worry about the unfriendly encounters with Malfoy when he returned.

She was surprised that he actually came back to the cabin most nights and wondered why. Surely it would be less suspicious and easier for him if he stayed at Hogwarts instead of sneaking off the grounds each evening. It didn't make much sense that he would risk people suspecting him of murder to come back to a place where the only person there was someone whom he hated. Didn't his friends notice he was missing? There were a couple nights that he hadn't come back, so who really knew what was going on. Hermione couldn't help but feel that there had to be a reason why he was there, alone, with her rather than at school with his friends. If only she could figure out what.

Malfoy made her a nice dinner each night, which she was both surprised at, and thankful for. Sure, she could make her own dinner like she made her own breakfast and lunch when he wasn't around, but that would involve the awkwardness of being in the same room with him for an extended period of time and Hermione would much rather avoid that.

He never really spoke to her when dropping off a plate of food and, over time, Hermione was finding that she was actually missing at least some form of human communication. After a couple of days, she started to ask about what was happening at the school, how her friends were. She hated to think about how they might be hurting right now. Her mind kept flooding with thoughts of the pain she was putting her friends through, the guilt that the professors must feel. What if her "death" had caused a panic among the students? Hermione loathed the thought that she could have made other students fear for their own lives when nothing had really happened to her in the first place. She wanted, no, she _needed_ to know what was occurring at Hogwarts, what damage this situation had caused to the atmosphere of the school.

Maybe she was getting ahead of herself, maybe she was thinking far too much and expecting the worst. Perhaps everything was just as it normally was and she was worrying over nothing. She was never able to know for certain, because Malfoy refused to reply to any of her inquires with more than a couple sentences. It was driving her absolutely mad!

It was possibly because of her own isolation and loneliness, but Hermione began to notice things about Malfoy in the few moments that he was in her presence each day. Through the cold, sneering responses, there was a sadness that he couldn't quite cover up, and when he looked at her, she swore she could see a hint of, almost longing in his stormy grey eyes, along with something else that she couldn't quite name. It made her think of what he must be going through because of everything he had done, everything he had saved her from. He had spared her and it had obviously done some damage to his own life. Was that the reason he spent most evenings at the cabin? Had his social life been hindered because of his choice not to follow through on his orders to kill her? Was the sadness she observed due to loneliness? She could definitely relate to that terrible feeling. Being alone was something that nobody should have to suffer.

She could be completely wrong about his reasons for being at the cabin, but one thing that she was certain about was that he wasn't some horrible monster like Harry made him out to be, that he was struggling just like anyone else, even more so it seemed.

Maybe it was a terrible idea. Maybe it was an experiment. Maybe her own curiosity was getting the best of her. Maybe she was reading Malfoy all wrong and was completely insane for seeing the good in the person who had kidnapped her. Maybe her need for some sort of human contact was clouding her judgement. But Hermione couldn't shake the desire to spend at least a little time with him, outside the safety of the room he had given her. She knew there was something going on, something deeper, something that he wanted to hide, and for whatever reason, Hermione wanted to at least try to figure it out. It might be totally mad, but perhaps, even some awkward silence in the presence of another person would do them both some good.

Hermione had heard Malfoy return a couple of hours before and sat on her bed in deliberation. Dropping the book she was reading onto the bed beside her, she took a deep, calming breath, and nodded her head in determination. She was going to do this whether it was a good idea or not. Surely things couldn't get any worse between the two of them then they already were.

It was almost comedic the way her nerves flared when she stood up and headed for the door. After everything she had faced with Harry and Ron, after learning that she had been targeted by Voldemort himself, simply eating dinner with Draco Malfoy was something that frightened her, or at least made her unbearably nervous. No, she couldn't back down now. This was something that she was going to do. This was something that she _needed_ to do; in order to keep her own sanity, in order to quell her own curiosity. With one more deep breath, she took the plunge into uncharted territory; having a meal with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Draco had spent the last week avoiding Hermione. It wasn't like she wanted to see him anyway, she shut herself away in her room as soon as he returned. Granted, he wasn't being exactly pleasant to her when he did see her… but it was all part of the plan.

He knew he shouldn't be coming back at all but school was unbearable. The rumours had spread and while some people glared, whispered, shouted, hexed, or avoided him, his fellow Slytherins wore signs of pride and relief that Hermione was gone. They held full conversations covering the nostalgia of how horrible Hermione was and how great a feat it was that she was finally dead. It was sickening and he couldn't stand it longer than he absolutely had to. The worst thing was that he had to play the part. He had to join in on the laughing and name calling. He knew he was supposed to be showing Hermione how much he still hated her, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could take this. He saw how lonely she was, how much this isolation was hurting her, and he just kept bringing it.

Every time her eyes met his, he felt a twinge in his heart. Draco worked so hard to keep his cold expression while his emotions seemed to be running wild. How could he have let things come so far? How could he let himself care so much to begin with? It was getting harder and harder to be around Hermione and not crack his hard exterior. If he just stayed at Hogwarts, he at least wouldn't have to worry about her discovering anything. He wasn't quite sure he trusted himself to continue to treat her this way for more than a minute or so.

One thing was for certain though. He _couldn't_ stay at the school. He tried, he really did. Once he realized how much more difficult this was all getting, Draco stayed for a couple nights. Those were the worst nights he had had in a very long time. He was constantly having to be around his Slytherin group, paranoid of what people might do who suspected him, and was continuously on guard for anything Hermione's friends might try to pull on him. Just having to be around the Slytherins all evening was like torture. He couldn't do it. Draco came back to the cabin just to face the problem again that he had been running from.

Draco was shocked when he heard the door to Hermione's room creak open and her light footsteps make their way down the hall. He was just finishing up making them dinner when she sat down at the table. He couldn't believe the feelings that immediately began to run through him; fear, relief, a strange warmth growing from his core, and fear, fear, fear. His heart began thudding faster and faster. Why was she there? Why did she sit at the table? Was she going to eat dinner with him? And just as fast, he felt the will to be a horrible human being to her, fading away. He knew he had to find it again, but it was just, _gone_. He couldn't keep up the role he was playing tonight. Not when he felt so damn good that she was even in the same room with him, not when he might actually vomit at the thought of doing anything more to hurt her. He absolutely hated being forced to show her the villainous side of himself he had been taught to develop.

Draco dished up the food onto two plates, picked them up and took a deep breath, desperately trying to stop the nervous shaking of his hands. When he had steadied himself the best he could, he turned around, wordlessly setting one plate in front of her and one at his own place setting.

They ate in silence with Hermione staring at her plate, not daring to make eye contact. That was what made it a bit awkward. It was clear that she was very uncomfortable being around him. He couldn't understand why she was even trying. Why was she sitting there with him? He was so confused by the action, but it also alighted something inside of him. He realized he desperately wanted to talk with her, like a normal human being instead of like the bully he pretended to be. He knew it was wrong, and he knew it would ruin everything he had worked so hard to do; it would show that he didn't really hate her as much as he portrayed. But something small inside of him was saying, to hell with it all. And that small something was quickly growing into something large.

But Hermione was completely silent and Draco didn't want to seem too eager for conversation either so he stayed quiet also, leaving only the sounds of forks and knives scraping across plates, and light chewing.

Suddenly, Hermione put down her cutlery and cleared her throat. "I don't think I ever thanked you," she told him as if she had been planning the conversation for the entire meal. She didn't look up as she spoke. "You didn't have to spare me. It probably would have been much easier on you if you had followed through with your mission. I just thought you should know that I appreciate your sacrifice."

Her words felt like a dagger being thrust into his chest. Sacrifice? Is that what she truly thought of him? That the decision not to kill her was so difficult? Sure this whole situation was messed up, terrifying, and a social disaster but he wouldn't change what he did. He would change having feelings for her in the first place because that was what lead to Hermione being in this much danger, but sparing her? That had been the easiest choice in the world. It would have done so much more damage to his already broken soul if he had killed her. And Hermione thanking him for all this _sacrifice_ was disgusting.

"What did you say?" she asked. He looked at her and found her staring back at him, her eyes questioning. Draco couldn't even find it in himself to pull out the glare he knew he should be showing her, just looked back at her, admiring the beautiful gaze she had been denying him of these past days.

"Did I say something?" he questioned back, knowing full well that sound had escaped his lips. _Damn it! What is wrong with me lately? It's like I can't keep a single thought to myself!_

"Well, it was more mumbled than said," she replied, returning her eyes to her now empty plate.

Draco wished she wouldn't look away so much. _No, her turning away is a good thing, making it easier on you._ He didn't believe anything he was telling himself. What did any of this even matter anymore? Wasn't he really only protecting himself by treating her the way he was? If somehow she was captured, she would be killed anyway. It didn't matter if she found out about his feelings or not. _You'll probably be killed anyway as well._ That was certainly a sobering thought.

Draco closed his eyes and just said part of the truth she needed to hear. "It wasn't that difficult." When he opened his eyes again, her gaze had returned to him, full of confusion.

"But you hate me," she said.

Draco just shook his head. This time it was his turn to turn his gaze towards the table. He wasn't going to give her any more than that. He just didn't want her to feel so alone, like he knew she did.

"I don't understand." Draco could hear the confusion in her voice as she spoke.

He had definitely let her see too much now. But for some reason, this didn't terrify him as it should. Draco knew that he _would_ probably be in more danger if she discovered his true motivation behind sparing her, at least emotionally, but at the moment, he didn't care. Even if he was going to be killed anyway, he still didn't want her to find out everything. He didn't think he could handle the rejection that he was sure would follow.

He loathed that she thought he still hated her. Sure for their first few years of school there was a very strong dislike, but that soon faded away. Now, it was all an act; an act that he was tired of playing.

"But in school, you've been horrible to me and my friends. I am everything your prejudices say shouldn't even be allowed at Hogwarts," she pressed.

The prejudices. The part of his upbringing that he wished he could have been smart enough to reject. One of the most shameful things about being a part of the social circle he was. Hermione couldn't see that he had moved past those thoughts, that he no longer believed she was anything but amazing. He hadn't let her see any of the progress he had made over the years. He hadn't allowed her to know what he truly thought of her.

"And now, you won't even speak to me. You refuse to let me know what is going on at school. You glare and sneer and make me feel small and unwanted. You say you don't hate me, but what am I supposed to think?"

She was supposed to think that he hated her. That was the plan. That was what had happened. That was what was currently falling apart. And Draco never wanted anything more than for that thinking, those feelings she had, to be destroyed.

"Do you hate me?" he asked hesitantly, still not meeting her gaze.

She seemed to consider that for a moment before answering.

"No," Hermione finally responded. "I don't hate you."

Draco lifted his eyes to hers.

 _She doesn't hate me._

 _She doesn't hate me._

 _She doesn't hate me._

The words came somewhat of a shock, but he felt his heart begin to melt. After everything he had done, after everything he had put her through, she didn't hate him. Draco knew he was stepping into dangerous territory, that this whole meal had been a horrible turn of events when it came to the strict plan of not letting her see his feelings. But even though he knew how much worse the situation was becoming, Draco couldn't help the emotions welling up inside of him. He felt better than he had in a very long while.

"Things are more complicated then they appear," he told her, hoping he wouldn't regret all this tomorrow. "I don't hate you either."

It was small, but Draco swore he saw the edges of her mouth rise, just slightly, into an almost unnoticeable smile.

That was the moment his left forearm began burning as if acid had been poured down his sleeve, then set alight with flame. It was nothing compared to when he was first marked, but every time the Death Eaters were called, it was still agony. He clutched at his arm and tried his hardest not to cry out, ending up making strangled grunting noises through clenched teeth.

"Malfoy, what's wrong?" Hermione sounded scared.

He had to be called _this_ night, the night when he was finally having even a few civil words with Hermione. Draco remembered Snape's warning not to go to the Dark Lord's side, to just wait out the pain. He couldn't let her see him like this! He didn't want to confirm all of her worst fears about him. Draco was a Death Eater, and there wasn't anything he could do to change that. He pushed away from the table and began heading away from her to lock himself in his bedroom. To his surprise, Hermione stood up and started to follow him.

"Malfoy, what is it?!" she asked again.

Her eyes drifted down to where he was holding his left arm and Draco saw the moment that realization of what was really going on struck her. Her eyes widened and she stopped moving.

"Yes, Granger, be afraid," he spat through the pain. "I am an evil Death Eater just like Potter says I am." With that, he ripped open his sleeve to reveal the dark mark, writhing like a snake on his forearm. Hermione took a step backwards. The look of fear in her eyes hurt almost worse than the burning of his mark. Hermione was afraid of him, of who he was linked to, of who he was, of what he could do to her. He couldn't blame her. He was a horrible person, a monster, evil.

"Yes, that's it. Run away from the scary Death Eater!" Draco rushed into his room without another glance back.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I hope the chapter wasn't too scattered. There is a lot of conflicting thoughts and emotions, and insecurities from both characters. I feel like their thoughts would be a bit scattered right now, especially Draco.**

 **Please Please Please review!**

 **A huge thanks to negativecreep91 and bennettfan84 for your thoughts on chapter 6, it really means so much to me.**

 **I have far less reviews than I got on my other story at this point and it makes me a bit disappointed. I want to know it people are enjoying my story, I also want to know if you wish anything was different.**

 **Thanks to everyone who favourited or followed and thanks for reading!**


	8. The Beginning

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the wonderful mind behind the magic, I just get to play around with it**

* * *

1997 – February 28

Hermione stood in the same spot, frozen, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.

Malfoy was a Death Eater. She had seen the mark on his skin. It wasn't like she didn't already suspect that he would have it, he _had_ been sent by Voldemort to kill her after all. But, still, he seemed so young. Hermione wondered if he had even been given a choice. His father was a Death Eater and she knew his mother also ran in those circles. It didn't seem that he wanted it to be there. She could see the shame in his eyes. He seemed so angry and hurt that she found out.

Hermione consciously lowered her hand to her side and took a deep breath to calm her speeding pulse. This was not what she had expected to happen that night. A bit of awkwardness, yes; an argument, possibly; but seeing his snake-like mark, not a chance.

Draco had a direct link to Voldemort himself and Hermione needed a minute to get over the shock, as well as the fear that had leaped to the front of her mind at the thought.

Sure, the sight of the mark seeming to move on his skin, being darkened and defined as if it were to leap off his arm and do the evil deeds of its master, it frightened her, but somehow, she knew he wouldn't harm her. Draco seemed so hurt when she took a step or two backward subconsciously. He must have taken it to mean that she was afraid of _him_. Hermione didn't think that was quite true. Not anymore at least. She may not know this Draco, but she knew the mark didn't define the person. People could change. Hermione was a firm believer that any Death Eater c _ould_ come to their senses and join the other side.

Malfoy didn't know that though.

She couldn't imagine what it must feel like to have somebody look at you with fear when you meant them no harm, especially if that fear was based on something you had no choice in.

At this point, Malfoy's will in that regard was completely speculation and only a few days earlier, she may have agreed with Harry that he might have _wanted_ the mark. But after seeing a different side to him every once in a while, she had a changed perspective. She must think this other side was worth getting to know because she had joined him for dinner.

Why _had_ she decided to sit with him at dinner? She guessed it was because she was lonely. She wasn't used to being alone, with no one to talk to for weeks at a time. Hermione missed her friends terribly and wanted something to remind her of school, even if it was Malfoy.

She also hadn't had a chance to thank him for his decision to go against his orders, though, she was not expecting the response she received. He appeared almost upset by her thanks. Then he mumbled that the decision was not in fact difficult for him and she thought she needed to hear it again, just to make sure she heard it correctly. If he hated her, wouldn't that automatically make the decision not to kill her more difficult, especially with the consequences surrounding sparing her life?

Then, he had come out and said it.

He didn't hate her.

Hermione was shocked, but for some reason, she was also relieved. What did any of this even mean? Why did those words hold so much significance for her? Why did she care if Malfoy hated her or not? _You want him to like you._ Hermione disregarded the ridiculous thought as soon as it entered her mind. Of course she didn't want Draco Malfoy to like her. In fact, she really didn't care at all if he hated her or not.

But the small voice continued to pry and question. If Malfoy really didn't hate her, then why did he treat her so badly in school? He had said that things were complicated, but that wasn't good enough! She craved details, specifics, and his few words on the topic gave her practically nothing but more questions. Hermione wanted to ask him so many things, but knew that as soon as she started, he would shut down.

She wondered if any of his Slytherin friends were also Death Eaters. Did Malfoy have anyone who knew? Did he have anyone to talk to that understood? Maybe Malfoy was more alone than she was. Was that the reason she had decided to eat dinner with him? Because she saw that he was lonely?

Hermione felt an undeniable urge to tell him that he hadn't frightened her, let him know that he wasn't alone now, or at least he didn't have to be.

Before she could stop herself, her legs were moving and she was knocking on his door. There was no answer. She took a deep breath, instantly regretting her impulsive behaviour. She should not be wanting to comfort him, it was wrong, it was irrational. He was a Death Eater for goodness sake! He had said and done horrible things to her when they were at school.

 _It's the right thing to do. Knock again,_ that small part of herself pushed. So, she rapped her knuckles against the door once more, ignoring the other portion of her more rational self that told her this was completely illogical.

"Malfoy?" she called.

The door whipped open and Draco Malfoy stood before her, scowling. He had changed his clothes so that his left forearm was covered again and Hermione thought she saw some evidence that he had been crying. Was it because of the pain or was it because of what the mark represented? Her breath caught as she saw for the first time how broken he really was. It was as if the mask he normally wore had cracked and that small break revealed, even the tiniest bit, of what was really happening inside him.

"What do you want?" he growled, though he had lost the intimidating edge to the demanding words that he had in school.

She cleared her throat. "I'm not afraid of you," Hermione told him. He seemed a bit taken aback by the words. "I've just never seen one before. It wasn't you that frightened me," she added.

"Maybe you _should_ be afraid of me," he said darkly and tried to close the door, but Hermione stuck her arm out to hold it open. She wasn't finished. She needed to finish. Before she lost this irrational courage, he needed to hear what she was saying.

Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't define you. You define who you are." She knew it sounded horribly cheesy, a complete cliché, but she also somehow knew that they were the words that were necessary for him to hear.

"You don't know me," he replied.

She thought about all of his conflicting actions. It seemed as though he was _trying_ to push her away, _trying_ to make the world hate him and something was definitely off with all the contradiction. This _something_ was making Hermione question the facts, doubt what her and her friends thought they knew. It made her head spin and her heart ache. And she just knew that there was so much more to Draco Malfoy than the world saw.

"I know enough to say that you're not who the rest of the world thinks you are and maybe who you want them to see." When Malfoy didn't respond, she continued. "You are a cruel bully when you are with your friends, always tearing others down just for fun. Then here, there are moments when you are actually kind to me, a muggle-born. I won't pretend to understand what is going on in your life. But I do know that the dark mark is not the whole story." She took a breath and stepped back from the door, wondering if she had pushed too far, noticing a slight shake in her hands from the rushing of nervous adrenaline.

As they stood in front of each other in silence, Hermione considered what she should do. If she was right, they both needed someone to talk to. If she was right, Malfoy truly had no one. Hermione didn't even want to imagine how that must feel. Should she just leave? She wasn't sure what would be best?

What was she thinking? He probably didn't even want her company. She should just head back to her room.

Hermione turned around and started walking slowly back to where she always hid, when he called to her.

"Wait," he sounded hesitant, as if considering each word before he said it. Hermione turned back to face him. "Say you're right. What does that make me?"

She thought. What did he want her to say? What could she say?

"Confused," she decided, knowing it was more truth than he had probably ever been told. "And alone." She paused before continuing. "Most people are you know; confused by what life throws at them. It's how you make sense of it that matters. You don't have to be alone."

"Don't you think I deserve to be alone?"

It was a question that held a lot of weight and Hermione wondered if it reflected things he had been forced to do. She didn't even want to _think_ of what he could have done under the command of Voldemort. The question held such pain, as though he believed the answer himself was that he deserved the horrible fate of loneliness that had befallen him.

No. Malfoy was just a boy. A boy her age who had seen terrible things, had done terrible things under the threat of Voldemort's wrath. He did not deserve this.

"I don't believe anyone really deserves to be alone completely. I think it's one of the worst things to happen to a person, to be left entirely on their own." Hermione slowly moved over to a sofa and sat down, picking up one of the book selections she had left there earlier that day, just to seem less awkward than standing there.

Malfoy stayed fixed in the doorway, appearing conflicted.

Hermione realized something while regarding him standing there. It's strange how something as simple as a name can have so much meaning.

Malfoy.

The usual proud and arrogant Malfoy stance had been replaced by a slightly slumped, defeated look. The typical smirk was exchanged by an expression of sadness and shame. This was not the same boy who roamed the halls searching for anything he could drag his father's influence into. This boy was different from Malfoy.

Malfoy – Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy described his father. His father, the Death Eater. His father, who stood for the same ideals Voldemort did. His father, who let his prejudices rule his life, his future, and more than that, his son's future. Mr. Malfoy was not the boy standing in front of her, he was not his father. Hermione didn't want to be comparing him to that man every time she said his name. He was his own person. A boy with a heart, soul, and a conscience.

She looked down at the book that was open on her lap. It wasn't as if she were actually reading it, she just didn't want him to feel like she was staring at him. When she switched her gaze upward again, she noticed that he had moved to sit on the other end of the sofa.

Hermione studied him, wondering what he was thinking. He swallowed and turned his eyes toward the floor beneath his feet, slowly rubbing his hands together, almost nervously.

"Malfoy," she started. His hands stopped moving, though they were still pressed tightly together, and his eyes lifted to hers. Hermione cleared her throat. "Would…" she paused and took a breath. "Would it be alright if I called you Draco?"

He seemed slightly shocked by the proposition.

"Alright," he replied in almost a whisper. "And I should call you Hermione?"

"Yes," she said with a small smile. Hermione suspected that for some reason he had already been using her first name. Whatever reason that may be, now he could freely use it between them as well.

It wasn't much, just a switch from last to first names, but Hermione knew that it was of far more significance than simply the name itself. It was the change from formal to informal, from enemy, to a… cordial relationship? It was a sort of understanding, an agreement, that there would be no more coldness between them; that they only really had each other, so they could, cautiously, trust one another.

Trust.

A first name implied trust, familiarity, concepts that Hermione thought she would never experience when it came to Draco Malfoy, but here she was, Hermione Granger, with only him to talk to, only him to connect with the outside world, with him basically holding her life in his hands.

This thought should have terrified her; it should have sent alarm bells ringing in her head. She was trusting Draco Malfoy with her life. Harry and Ron would think that she had finally truly lost her mind. But there really wasn't another way. He had saved her, he had hidden her, he was protecting her by keeping her there, in a place that no one else knew about.

By using a first name, they were turning away from their pasts together and starting anew. And nobody could possibly know where they were headed.

* * *

 _1995 - September_

 _The new school year had finally started, and it couldn't have come soon enough. It had been much easier to avoid thinking of Granger when she wasn't around all the time, but all summer, he had had to listen to his father going on and on about what good the Dark Lord was going to do in the society by ridding it of muggles and muggle-borns._

 _It had happened. He had returned. The thought, that less than a year ago would have been an exciting event, now terrified him. What was even more alarming was that nobody seemed to believe Potter that he was really back. Was the ministry full of fools that they thought it better to ignore the signs of the Dark Lord's return rather than to gather their strength to fight against him? They were just letting the Death Eaters get away with doing whatever they liked, running wild throughout London, torturing and murdering anyone they thought below them._

 _Draco reminded himself that this was supposed to be a good thing for him, or at least he had to act like it was when he was with his friends._

 _The new professor of Defense against the Dark arts, Umbridge, was just plain annoying and it was almost painful to look straight at the woman due to her several too many shades of pink. Draco was shocked when he went to the class to find the new text taught nothing about actually applying the spells to real life. She was going to end up getting everyone in the room killed. The ignorant witch was adamant that the Dark Lord had not returned and that Potter had just made it up to get more attention. He would have loved for Potter to have been lying, but he knew better._

 _Draco stared ahead of where he was sitting, at Granger. She raised her hand._

 _"There's nothing in here about using defensive spells," she said._

 _"Using spells?! Well, I can´t imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom. You'll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way," Umbridge replied._

 _Draco was stunned. Out of anyone, it was most important for Granger, and others like her, to learn how defend themselves. Especially hanging around with Potter, she was going to become a target for the Death Eaters. An image of what those evil people could do to her flashed through his mind. She had to learn how to protect herself! Even if he couldn't outright talk to her or protect her, maybe he could keep out a listening ear._

 _No! This was wrong! He couldn't keep doing this! Now that the Dark Lord was back, he had to be even more careful. He had to stop this or else he would put her, and himself, in even more danger._

 _For the rest of the class and into the coming day, Draco couldn't get her out of his head. It was as if just seeing her again after the summer brought on a whole other flood of confusing feelings and thoughts. His eyes kept finding her no matter where she was and Draco was so thankful that she remained oblivious to his gaze, hoping that no one else caught on to his uncontrollable observances._

 _They were at dinner when it happened._

 _Draco tried his hardest to focus on the food in front of him, but his appetite had been lacking since the fear of what was coming grew within him. His friends were talking around him, but he wasn't paying attention to what they were saying._

 _Draco's eyes slowly lifted towards the Gryffindor table where Granger was sitting amongst her intolerable friends. He didn't know how she could stand to be around them as much as she was._

 _She looked back at him, gazes locking for just a moment._

 _Draco froze. She wasn't staring at him with contempt, but simply surprise. Even from this distance, Draco could tell that her eyes sparkled with curiosity. She was beautiful._

 _He quickly snapped out of his haze and returned his eyes to his own table. This was really bad. Had Granger noticed how he had been watching her? Had she noticed the longing that he felt for her to just say a civil 'hello' and for him not to have to act like a complete prick?_

 _He couldn't keep doing this. Draco couldn't let her know, couldn't let her see his confusion in the things he had been taught, the confliction of his prejudices. He couldn't even imagine the terror that would follow if she discovered the things he was struggling with._

 _Draco briefly closed his eyes, desperately hoping he hadn't been too obvious, that his expression had been much more cold and disdainful than he felt._

 _"You alright mate?" Blaise asked._

 _Draco's heart began thudding wildly in his chest as he realized his friends could have also noticed the little exchange he had with Granger._

 _"Yes, a headache just came on," he replied smoothly. "I think I'm going to turn in early." Draco excused himself from the table and headed back to the Slytherin dungeons._

 _This needed to stop. He needed to go back to only thinking of himself. He was the pureblood, he was all that mattered, not some mudblood. He had to go back to the beliefs he had always been taught. He would make this more dangerous for himself if he kept this up. He didn't need to go and make this time even more terrifying for himself by going soft on mudbloods!_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Happy Sunday! I hope your guys enjoyed it! Thank-you for the reviews bennettfan84, FortyFandoms, and whoever the two guest reviews were! I really appreciate your opinions!**

 **FortyFandoms – I have something planned that I hope you'll like! I loved reading your theory!**

 **I had a guest review thinking that Hermione would be angry with how Draco acted, and maybe some others feel that way as well, but in my opinion, she would analyze the situation a bit and be more shocked than anything. It was obvious that Draco was in pain and ashamed of the mark, hiding like he did. I think Hermione would be quite logical and compassionate about the situation.**

 **Thanks to everyone who favorited, followed, and read!**

 **Please review! School's getting busier and reading your thoughts makes me more motivated to get my school work done quickly so I can have a thouroughly edited chapter up for you on Sunday!**

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	9. The Snow

**Disclaimer: I didn't create the world of Harry Potter**

* * *

1997 – March 1

Tap tap tap.

 _What the bloody hell is that?_ Draco thought groggily. It was six o clock in the morning on a Saturday.

Tap tap tap.

Draco opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his vision. It sounded like it was coming from the window. He sat up and froze when he saw his owl pecking at the glass. Owls had a way of finding people, even if they didn't want to be found but Draco just hoped that no one was able to follow it. What was so important that someone had to risk sending him an owl rather than just waiting until classes started on Monday?

Draco shakily stood up and moved to the window, pushing it open. A gush of cold wind filled the previously warm room as he let the owl inside. Now shivering, he removed the note that was attached to the bird's leg and sat back down on his bed as he unfolded the parchment.

 _Draco,_

 _We met last night as you well know. I explained how_

 _you were stuck at the school and would_ _not be able_ _to attend_

 _the meeting. They accepted the excuse, however,_ _there is a revel,_

 _tonight. Figure out what you want quickly. If you wish to_ _stay_ _in_ _the_

 _Dark Lord's good graces, I am afraid you must attend the_ _revel_

 _and_ _will be expected to fully participate. Meet at the manor_ _at_ _midnight._

 _Again,_ _I will_ _advise you to tell me where you are so I can help you._

 _S.S._

Draco stared at the letter, unable to believe what he was reading. What did Snape mean by deciding what he wanted? Draco thought he was pretty clear that what he desired was Hermione's safety. Was there another way to keep her safe other than to go?

Did he _wish_ to stay in the Dark Lord's good graces as the professor had put it? The alternative was not something he wanted to even think about. How was he supposed to choose something like this? He knew the kinds of things he was going to be forced to do; they were going to make him torture people, kill people. He didn't know if he could handle this. If he refused to participate, they would know that Hermione was still alive and Draco didn't think he could protect her if that happened. He didn't trust Snape enough to let him in on this. He could help when it came to the Dark Lord, but Draco wasn't about to trust him with Hermione's location. How was he supposed to rely on the man when he was a follower of the same evil wizard who had sent Draco to kill Hermione?

How could things switch so fast? The previous night had ended better than he could have ever dreamed. Hermione made him feel like he wasn't a monster, that he was normal even. He didn't know why he showed her his mark like that. Pain made him do strange things.

The look in her eyes when realization hit her of what he was hiding was something he wished he'd never seen from her. The fear in her gaze as he revealed the mark made him feel horrible, nothing could be worse than that.

He couldn't help but smile as he remembered what happened next. She had knocked.

Draco hated not knowing what to expect. He liked at least being able to prepare himself for what was coming. But when Hermione knocked on his bedroom door, he honestly had no idea why. Why would she voluntarily ask to face him right now? Why, when she found out what he was, would she stand outside his door, requesting for him to open it to her?

When he finally decided to open the door, somehow, she had been pretty spot on. Draco knew that Hermione was perceptive, but he didn't realize he had been making it so easy for her. He obviously wasn't on top of his game when it came to hiding his emotions. If he was, Hermione would have never guessed. Yes, he was hiding almost every part of himself from the world, yes, he felt alone, and yes, he was very confused. Confused about himself, about her, about Snape, about so much.

But she wasn't afraid of him. Even after knowing what he was, after seeing the Dark Mark that stained his skin, his life, his entire being, she wasn't afraid of him.

And she didn't believe that he deserved to be alone.

The smile faded. After tonight she would think he deserved to be alone. After tonight she would be afraid of him. After tonight, even Hermione Granger would think he was a monster. Maybe he could make it a good day until then. He would savor every moment he had as her friend.

Friend.

Draco hated the word, but knew it was as far as he was going to get with her. He never _dreamed_ he would even get that far. And after tonight, that friendship would be destroyed.

Draco got out of bed, dressed in his day robes, and headed out into the kitchen to make breakfast. It wasn't as if he was going to be able to get back to sleep now anyway.

It was cold outside of his bedroom so with a flick of his wand, he lit a fire in the fireplace, waiting for its heat to fill the cabin. He moved over to the kitchen where he turned on the stove and got out a frying pan to start making some eggs.

He heard the shuffling movements of tired feet coming down the hall. What was she doing up this early?

"Good morning," Hermione greeted, yawning.

"Breakfast will be ready soon," he replied while cracking another egg into the pan. Once they were cooked, he scooped them onto two plates and placed them on the table, where Hermione had already sat down.

"Thanks," she said quietly as he plunked down into the chair beside her. "Mal…Draco," she corrected herself.

A warm sensation rose within him at the sound of his name escaping her lips. He had waited years to hear it from her and had long since accepted that he most likely never would. Apparently, he had been mistaken.

Draco hid his delight to the best of his current abilities as she continued. "I was wondering if I could have my wand back."

He had totally forgotten that she didn't have it. She should definitely have her wand. If, by chance, they were found, Hermione needed to be able to defend herself. "Of course. Just don't do anything stupid."

"Does it seem like I would do something stupid?" she asked.

"Not really," he replied with a slight shake of his head and a smile coming to his lips. It didn't seem as though she was asking so that she could run back to her friends. Hermione was smarter than that. He knew she now saw that she was safer at the secret cabin than she would be elsewhere.

"Are you sleeping alright? You're awake rather early," Draco asked her. It was sort of a strange question, but how you sleep says a lot about your frame of mind. He wanted to know how much all this was affecting her.

"You're awake," she pointed out.

"True." But he had been told of a terrible event that he would have to participate in that night that could literally break him.

She sighed. "I guess I haven't been sleeping all that well. I'm worried about my friends, what they're going through. It would be just awful if I had found out that one of them had been killed. I wouldn't even know what to do with myself. I just hope they're alright."

Draco knew that they were pretty beat up over the loss, he would have been angry if they hadn't been, but they were doing okay. Well enough to threaten him at any moment they got.

"They're alright," he assured her. He hated that she had to have this happen. He and his friends had never exactly been close so he couldn't relate all that much. Then again, if he found out Hermione had been killed, it would tear him apart.

Once they were finished eating breakfast, Draco got up and fetched Hermione's wand from his nightstand. He was surprised she hadn't asked for it back sooner, but he guessed that last night was the first time he had truly been civil to her, ever really. This was probably the first time she felt comfortable with asking. Either that or he just never gave her a chance to.

He walked back to the table and passed her the wand.

"Thank you," she said. She looked like she wanted to ask him something else as she bit her lip nervously. "Draco, what are the wards like around this place?"

Draco had not been expecting that question and wasn't really sure where she was going with it. "It's safe if that's what you're asking," he told her.

"I just meant…would I be able to go outside for a short while?"

He should have thought of that. Of course she wouldn't want to be cooped up in the cabin all day, every day.

"The wards make everything inside them undetectable to the outside world, they're pretty secure as well, designed so that only I can apparate or disapparate while within them."

"And how far around the property do they go?"

"The property is fairly large, not as sizeable as the manor, but decent," Draco explained.

"So, would it be alright to take a short walk around?" she asked.

"Should be fine," he said.

Hermione paused for a moment. "Would you like to come with me? I mean, you certainly don't have to. It isn't as if I _c_ _ouldn't_ go alone. That doesn't mean I wouldn't want you to come. But if _you_ don't want to, or if you have other things to do-"

Draco interrupted her nervous rambling. "I'll come," he told her, alighting a bright smile from her that he hadn't seen in quite some time.

She wanted him to come.

Draco never thought he would see the day when Hermione Granger would ask him to do _anything_ with her. It made him incredibly happy to think that _she_ desired to spend time with _him_.

"Do you have any winter clothes I could borrow?" she asked.

"We can just use a warming spell," Draco reminded her.

"Where's the fun in that?"

Fun. She thought walking out in the cold…and _being_ cold, was fun. They had magic to _prevent_ them from having to experience that!

It had been a freezing winter, and even though it was now March, Draco knew for a fact from when he had let the owl inside that it had started snowing lightly that morning.

"It's cold outside. Even with warm clothes," he said, trying to push the use of the warming spell.

"Draco, I have been stuck inside this cabin for weeks now. A little cold air would be absolutely wonderful."

He sighed. If she would just keep saying his name like that, he would never get cold. Every time it left her lips, it created a warm happiness bursting inside of him.

"Fine," he replied, and summoned the items.

The two got bundled in scarves and mitts, and soon were headed outside. It was cold, as he had said it would be, and a light dusting of white covered a bit of the ground, but mostly fell on the branches of the trees.

"It's beautiful," he heard Hermione whisper.

"I take it you like the snow," he observed.

"I love it. It brings back so many wonderful memories from my childhood, and there is something about it that just seems to bring joy. Muggles would call the quality magic," she explained.

"That's ridiculous," Draco claimed, shaking his head.

"I know it is, but if you've never experienced real magic before, it is a word to describe a good feeling that you can't quite explain."

He watched her as she tilted her head back to examine the white snow against the green of the trees above her.

"Have you ever experienced anything like that? The almost instant happiness you get from something?" Hermione asked, tearing her eyes off the trees to look at him.

Draco thought. Nothing had ever been like that for him. Even Christmas and birthdays always had to be proper. If it snowed, you were expected to use magic to keep yourself warm and dry. Everything was formal, everything was a hassle. Not even a family dinner could be considered remotely fun.

"Not particularly," he replied. It seemed that his childhood had been very different from hers and he was curious to know more. "So what was it like growing up in a muggle home?"

Hermione stopped and looked at him strangely, as if that was the last question she had expected him to ask.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing. I just didn't think you would be interested in things like that," she clarified.

"There's a lot you don't know about me," he told her.

"Well," she began. "We were very family oriented. Every night, it was tradition to sit down and eat dinner together. We didn't have any house elves or servants of course, so we cleaned up the kitchen together after dinner. It usually ended in getting splashed by the dishwater, singing along to random songs…" she trailed off on the memory. "I went to a muggle school until I was eleven and got my letter to Hogwarts. I always knew something was different about me than the other kids and the letter finally made everything make sense. My parents didn't really understand what it all meant, but they knew it made me happy, and feel like I might actually belong somewhere. They were told it was good for me, that I would get an education that revolved around the things that made me unique, that I would be with other kids who were like me. They were very supportive and now still, every summer, they want to know all about what is going on at school, what I'm learning." She smiled as she spoke.

The way she was brought up was so much different from the way he had been. It actually sounded better. Though guilt flooded through him when she mentioned the feeling of actually belonging somewhere. He had taken that away as soon as he had met her. He made her feel different and inferior when that was probably what she had thought she left behind.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Draco realized he was frowning. "Nothing's wrong, I'm just thinking."

"Whatever you're thinking of must not be very pleasant," she inferred.

It wasn't. "I'm sorry," he told her. She seemed a bit confused. "From the first time I met you, I treated you horribly."

"You did," she agreed. "But I can forgive you."

She could forgive him for destroying her childhood dream of belonging? He was taught growing up that if someone wronged you, you were supposed to wait for the perfect moment to avenge that wrong. He hurt Hermione and yet, she didn't want him to hurt? This didn't fully make sense to him.

"Why do you look so confused?" she asked.

"Because I hurt you and you don't want revenge. In my circle, those two things don't go together."

"If everyone did that, more people would just get hurt and nothing would ever get resolved."

"I guess you're right," he admitted.

* * *

Something was different about that moment. It was easy, natural, and so very strange. How could one day make such a difference? Only if the past couple of weeks were completely forced. She had noticed his contradicting actions before those isolating days and then he had retreated into ignoring her. The cold glares, the sneered words, it was so obvious to Hermione now that he had been trying to make her hate him. For the life of her she couldn't figure out why. He had agreed to go on this walk with her so quickly, it had shocked her.

Malfoy … wait, Draco, kept on surprising her. He wanted to know about her life, as a _muggle_. And he seemed genuinely interested. Next he apologized, something she thought she would _never_ hear from _him_.

Hermione looked at him, bundled up against the cold weather. As she had been appreciating the beauty in even the light snowfall, she noticed that his eyes never really left her. It should be strange, she should feel disturbed, frightened, that his constant gaze was intrusive, but for some reason, those feelings never came.

 _No_. She told herself. _You've only even been cordial with him for one night. He is still the same Malfoy he used to be._ But the words didn't have an effect. She knew it wasn't true. She had no idea who the real Draco was, but she did know that he wasn't the arrogant, insulting, prick that he was in school. Something was different.

She looked away as the thought that Draco was actually quite handsome came to her mind. It was wrong to be thinking that way. He was her best friend's rival and had been bullying her for years. How could everything be forgotten in an instant? Still, she had never before had a time like this with him. A time when they could both talk freely, get to know one another.

Hermione hated to think of Harry and Ron's reactions to her possibility of friendship with Draco. She began to feel rather guilty. They thought she was dead, and now she was off enjoying the snowy day with the boy they hated. _But they don't really know him. Nobody does._

Without thinking she pulled out her wand and ruffled the tree above him, snow shaking loose and falling down onto Draco's head. Maybe it was too soon to be pushing things like this, but she was curious as to what he would do.

This was not her normal self. This impulsive behavior was entirely new to her. This realization in itself should have brought her back to reality, but for some reason, Hermione was enjoying the rashness of her recent activity.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" he demanded.

Hermione couldn't help the smile that appeared or the light giggle that escaped her. She slapped a hand over her mouth, just in case he got offended that she was laughing at him. Hermione was half expecting that he would storm off and go back inside, but she was gladly mistaken. A small grin spread across his lips and she just saw the twitch of his wand before icy snow fell down onto her own head.

She squealed a bit and laughed, quickly running a bit ahead and ruffling the branches above him again. They couldn't have a proper snowball fight because there just wasn't enough snow, but there was more on the branches of the trees and that would have to do.

Hermione heard him chase after her and more snow fell on down, sticking to her hair and clothes. She turned around to shoot more icy whiteness at Draco and heard the most amazing sound. He laughed. A true, genuine, happy laugh, not one of his insulting snickers. And his smile was so unlike the half hearted sneer he used to take on in school, but was full of sincere joy. Hermione found that she liked seeing it on his face. And even stranger, she liked the fact that she had been the one to put it there.

What was going on with her? Was she losing her mind? The situation was terrifying, horrible, possibly fatal, and here she was having fun with the boy who had been the one to bring her there in the first place.

Just as quickly as the smile had appeared, it was gone, and what she now saw in his gaze was dread, as if he had suddenly remembered something terrible.

"What is it?" he asked, practically stealing the words out of her own mouth.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"You just stopped suddenly," Draco told her.

Yes, she realized that might have been a bit strange. In her focus on his expressions, she had stopped running, stopped laughing herself.

"Nothing's wrong," she assured him. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, because he had obviously started to think of something less than pleasant again. But, the more she thought about it, the more she realized he probably wouldn't answer her anyway and she didn't want to ruin the progress their relationship had made in the past couple of hours. "Do you want to go back inside?" she asked, looking at his soaking wet hair that was now dripping into his face.

She knew she probably looked pretty ratty at the moment and soon, her hair would be one big ball of frizz, but it was sort of refreshing to see Draco without his hair done up with who knew how many products.

He shivered. "It might be a good idea to get dried off and warm."

"Alright," she agreed, beginning to feel the freezing air herself. She gave him a smile, but he didn't return it this time. There was something going on. Something that made a dark feeling of dread rise within her. She pushed it to the side as she walked back to the cabin. But the thought kept coming up. Would he tell her if he was in trouble? Would he tell her if something horrible was about to happen?

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **So, there's another chapter! I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you all are alright with the snow bit and it wasn't too unrealistic with the timing. I'm sure it is possible for it to snow in the beginning of March and I really wanted to write this scene. I originally thought about moving the whole story back in dates to make it more realistic but I needed to keep everything moving along. Please let me know what you thought!**

 **Thank you so much again FortyFandoms and bennettfan84 for the reviews. I appreciate them so much!**

 **But seriously, I would love to hear some other voices too! If you enjoyed it, it would make my day amazing if you could just give me a little 10 sec. blurb telling me so.**

 **I have an insane week with a job interview, two quizzes, a midterm, and a ton of reading I am already behind on so I really need the motivation of your reviews to get me to edit another chapter in time for next Sunday.**

 **Thanks for reading my chapter and my obnoxiously long author's note, and thanks to everyone who favourited/followed!**


	10. The Night

**Warning: This chapter is very dark and includes scenes of torture. If you don't want to read the violent sections, I have bolded where to stop reading and where to start again. It is referenced in the later section so you won't miss anything.**

 **Disclaimer: The plot belongs to me but everything else is from the brilliant mind of JK Rowling**

* * *

1996 - August

 _The summer had been a disaster. Just when he had finally started to figure things out, his entire life had to be flipped upside down._

 _Him and his mother had been close once. Well, as close as a pureblooded mother was allowed to be with her son. She wanted him to go to Hogwarts when his father desired for him to go to Durmstrang. She had wanted him closer to home and argued the point strongly enough to make his father give in to her wishes. Draco's mother had made sure he had everything he needed or could ever hope to have growing up. He had been spoiled rotten as a child. Even though she could not show much affection, or give too much attention to Draco as a young boy, she had done the best she could in the formal pureblood culture._

 _Now, her old self seemed to be destroyed and Draco hated to see his proud and elegant mother this way. Narcissa Malfoy was cold, silent, and withering. She had not taken well to the imprisonment of her husband and had been very distant all summer._

 _Draco sat across from her at the long dining room table. The manor was quiet, but the silence almost prickled with the newfound tinge of dark magic. The Dark Lord had been using their home as a base for their evil schemes._

 _He knew this all was very difficult for his mother, with her husband in Askaban, her son following in his father's path to become a Death Eater, her home being used to house some of the vilest acts imaginable. Draco noticed that she had a hard time even looking at him since he had been marked._

 _With everything going on, all the horrors he faced, one thing had become certain._

 _Draco had feelings for Hermione Granger._

 _It had taken him a long time, but he had finally accepted it. It wasn't as though he could fight the emotions that flooded through him at even a glance of her wild and untamed hair, or the reactions evoked within him at the sound of her voice._

 _He also understood that he still had a roll to play. Just because Draco had accepted what Granger did to him didn't mean it was alright for anyone else to know. His friends would still shun him, they would tell their fathers, many of whom were Death Eaters, and he didn't even want to think about what would happen if his own father found out, not to mention the horror that would follow if his affections were discovered by the Dark Lord himself._

 _He had to be careful._

 _Draco wished that things were different, that he didn't have to pretend to believe the things he had been taught growing up, that he didn't have to be horrible to Granger, that he could act on his feelings and possibly know even a hint of happiness. He knew this was all impossible, that it was more painful to imagine the what-ifs of life that would never be. He wanted a chance with Granger that would never be possible to have._

 _It wasn't as if she would ever feel the same way about him after all the years of bullying, insulting, discriminating. Granger hated him and that wasn't about to change. This wishful thinking was the closest he would ever get to having a relationship with her other than enemies._

 _Draco had heard about the prophecy, the one the Dark Lord was after, but he didn't think Potter and his little club would actually try to stop him. Now it was out, the whole world knew that the Dark Lord was back. This should have been a good thing, but since he had taken the Dark Mark, the thought brought more fear. He would be labeled the same as the other Death Eaters and sentenced to Askaban, if not the dementor's kiss._

 _His father had been caught working for the Dark Lord in the department of mysteries in the attempt to steal the prophesy for him. Lucius Malfoy had been sent to Askaban which meant his entire family was under the watchful eye of the ministry. Because of his father's recent absence, as well as punishment for his failure to gain the prophecy, Draco had been 'chosen'. He was forced to take the Dark Mark this summer and he was plain terrified of what that meant for his future._

 _He wished he could get out of this and be by Granger's side. He had heard that she had taken a pretty bad hit from a dark curse and was in serious condition. Dolohov had actually bragged about hurting the 'mudblood'. Draco knew he wasn't cut out for this. He couldn't seriously injure people, he couldn't torture, or kill another living thing. Sure he was a bully in school, but to actually cast a dark curse on another person, he wasn't sure he could do it._

 _He thought about Granger and if she was alright. It wasn't as though he could get any information on her current state at the moment. Nobody cared enough about some mudblood to follow up. They found more pleasure in just knowing she was in pain. Draco was itching to go back to school to make certain she was okay. Surely she was. She had Potter and Weasley to look out for her and help her to recover._

 _She didn't need him to be hanging around, she didn't want him hanging around. It was best that he keep his distance anyway. If he was labelled a Death Eater, he couldn't be caught being nice to a muggle born. It would have horrible consequences for them both. No, he had to be his mean old self so that no one would suspect a thing._

 _Draco wanted to keep her as far away from this war as possible, for as long as possible._

* * *

1997 - March 1

Saturday night came upon Draco far too quickly. After the walk around the property he had taken with Hermione in the snowy forest, the two had gone back inside, freezing cold and sopping wet. For once in his life, he didn't mind the feeling. Him and Hermione had laughed together, ran together; like a childhood do-over. He just wished it hadn't been marred by thoughts of what was to come that night.

Once they were dry and warm, Draco had gotten out the wizard's chess and Hermione made hot chocolate, bringing it by the fire. While wrapped in cozy blankets and drinking the hot cocoa, they played chess. It was the most evenly matched game Draco thought he had ever played. It was both a challenge and quite enjoyable to be playing with an intelligent witch like Hermione.

As it got later and Hermione went to bed, Draco paced back and forth across his bedroom floor, waiting anxiously, dreading the moment that midnight would arrive when he had to apparate to Malfoy Manor.

He hated that place now. It only held bad memories that he never wanted to go back to. Unfortunately, tonight, he didn't have an option. Somehow, Draco had to turn off his conscience, his feelings and emotions, in order to just get through the night.

It was time. With a deep breath, he disapparated.

Malfoy Manor seemed dark, as if Death himself had crept in to take residency there. Draco had to control himself. The other Death Eaters could sense fear, and he was trembling with it. His heartbeat seemed so loud, that the whole world could hear it beating like a drum against his chest.

"Draco's here!" his Aunt Bella squealed excitedly "First revel!" The insane woman grabbed Draco's shoulders and shoved him into the middle of the group that had gathered.

"So exciting that you could join us tonight. Always good to have some fresh blood in the mix," Dolohov said.

That this revel seemed to be something they were all looking forward to was sickening. He wanted nothing more than to be back at the cabin with Hermione.

Draco looked around, expecting to see the Dark Lord entering at any moment.

"The Dark Lord won't be coming tonight," his Aunt told him, picking up on his anxiety. "He had more important things to deal with. But he did give, certain instructions." Draco didn't like what she was implying.

Once everyone had arrived, they gathered together and apparated to where they were to bring terror that night.

They stood outside of a muggle neighborhood. Pouring rain thundered down around them as if foreshadowing what was about to happen. They split off into groups of two to enter one house along the street and commence their nauseating form of fun.

"I get to go with Draco!" Bellatrix sang like a schoolgirl happy with her pairing for some sort of group project. "This will be so much fun! I get to show you how things really get done."

 **They marched up to the house and Bellatrix blasted in the door, strutting inside and examining the modest muggle home that she seemed to find quite disgusting.** When a man came down the stairs to see what the noise was all about, the first curse was cast.

"You take this one," she whispered in Draco's ear. "Remember that this is a test from the Dark Lord. He doesn't believe that you actually killed the mudblood girl. But if you can kill now, it means you were actually capable of killing her before. Don't make the Dark Lord hunt you down." Then she added, "Oh, and make sure to make him suffer. I want to hear him scream."

Draco froze, gripping his wand tightly. So that was what this was for. If he couldn't kill the man pleading on the ground in front of him, both he and Hermione would be dead. Bellatrix laughed and made her way up the stairs, leaving Draco alone with the quivering man.

"Please!" the man cried. "Not my family!"

Knowing he had a family made this even more difficult. Draco scrunched his face, trying not to cry. How could he do this? It wasn't him, it wasn't who he wanted to be. But if he didn't do this now, everyone would know that he hadn't killed Hermione. He _had_ to keep her safe.

He had been forced to torture people before and every time he had been sick. Every time, it killed a small part of him inside. What he had not yet been made to do before his most recent mission was to kill one of their victims. This time, he would be responsible for it all.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, knowing the pain that was about to be thrown upon this man.

 _"Crucio!"_

The curse ripped through him. He didn't want to be doing this! The man's screams at his feet was like a sword to his chest. It made him want to throw up. This was not alright. Draco looked around trying to discover a way to get the man out without letting Bellatrix know that he couldn't do it. But there was no option. Whatever he did to help this family would put Hermione and himself in danger.

Draco heard the high pitched scream of a child coming from upstairs and he squeezed his eyes shut. Was his aunt torturing a child? He felt a tear on his cheek and quickly wiped it away. He had to get control of himself before Bellatrix came down and found him like this. He thought about what would be best to do in this situation. He didn't want this man to keep suffering.

He decided it would be best to kill him now and make up some excuse after. At least his pain wouldn't be prolonged. Slowly, he raised his wand again, shaking so hard that he thought he might miss. Could he really take another's life? His mouth didn't want to form the words, his heart dreaded the inevitability of the shattering of his soul.

"Please! Please don't!" the man begged. "What did we ever do to you?"

 _Nothing. Completely nothing. Just the fact that you were born makes you a target,_ Draco thought. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He had to do this. He knew if he didn't, there would be little possibility of leaving this night alive. At least he had given Hermione back her wand, but she would never be safe. He took a shaky breath to try to steady himself. He had to do this.

The man in front of him cried and pleaded, for both himself and for his family. Draco squeezed his eyes shut, not being able to watch the man's life slip away.

 _"Avada Kedavra,"_ his voice sounded strange to his ears, but it had been done. A bright green light filled the room and the man was silent. Draco fell to his knees. He had done it. He had taken another's life in cold blood. He was a monster, he was evil. His entire being felt filled with a darkness that was so complete it seemed as if it would never see light again.

The screaming was still going on upstairs. Draco just wanted it all to stop! He needed to be gone from there; _anywhere_ but there. He would rather be the man he had just killed than feel like this. How could he live another day knowing what he had just done?

More tears spilled down his face, and again, he quickly wiped them away. He had to act as though he was enjoying this, like he just couldn't wait any longer to kill that man, that he was so excited he just couldn't control himself. He stood up and took a few more deep breaths. The worst was over now. All he had to do was wait and play the role he always had.

The screaming upstairs stopped suddenly and that could only mean one thing. Bellatrix had finished with her fun and had finally killed them. He heard her footsteps coming down the stairs and knew he had seconds to freeze his emotions and prepare to fake excitement and enthusiasm for the horrors that had just occurred.

"Oh, Draco. Why did you kill him so soon? He only screamed for a few minutes. Missed out on half the fun!" she scolded.

"I guess I got a bit over excited. Just couldn't control myself," he replied mechanically, hoping it was what she would want to hear.

"Understandable, understandable." She smiled. "For everyone it's something different. You got a taste of the power of taking a life and now you can't wait to do it again! That's my nephew!" she cheered and grabbed his arm skipping outside.

Agonized screams could be heard from the other houses down the street and as hard as Draco tried to block it out, tried not to let it affect him, he couldn't stop the anguish that filled his soul. He was one of these people now. He was evil, a murderer, a Death Eater.

Bellatrix raised her wand into the air and with a cackle, cast the Dark Mark into the sky.

"Do you want to have the honor of burning the place Draco?" Bellatrix asked.

It wasn't as if he could really turn the offer down without sounding suspicious so he agreed, attempting to seem eager.

 _"Incendio,"_ he said, sending the house up in flames. He looked behind him in disgust seeing his Aunt dance around in the light of the fire yelling and laughing, head tilted towards her curse in the sky. He couldn't believe he was related to this person, if you could even call her one. She was completely insane and in no way should be able to roam free.

"Come back to the Manor with us and we'll celebrate!" she called to him as other houses on the street were set alight.

"I have so much work to do for school. It's hard being the _top_ of the class," he replied, emphasizing that he was now the top since Hermione was supposedly dead.

"Right! So proud, Draco! So proud!" Draco hated that he could make his Aunt proud of him for anything.

 **Without another word, he disapparated from the horror filled neighborhood to arrive back in the familiar woods of the cabin.**

Draco ran inside and headed straight for the bathroom where he dropped beside the toilet and retched. He could not believe what had happened that night, what he had done. The weight felt so heavy upon him as if he was being pressed into the earth, unable to breath. His chest ached and he longed to just disappear, or go back in time to before all this happened. He had promised himself that he would do anything to keep Hermione safe. This was not something he had considered.

After he had vomited up everything he had in his stomach, he leaned his head back against the cupboard under the sink and let his emotions finally be released. He cried like he never had before, tears streaming down his face making his cheeks feel wet and sticky.

There was a knock on the door. Hermione. Had he woken her up? Draco didn't want her to see him like this. He didn't want her to know the monster he had become. He didn't answer but the door creaked open anyways. He wanted to stop crying, but he found that it was an impossibility.

"Draco? What's happened?" she asked, opening the door farther.

He didn't answer. All that she had said about him not being evil, it was all wrong now. He was just as bad as any other Death Eater.

Hermione sat down beside him.

"Remember, you're not alone anymore. You don't have to struggle or hurt by yourself," she told him.

If she knew what he had done, she wouldn't want to be beside him, she would want to get as far away as possible from him. Even so, something deep inside told him that he might feel somewhat better if he was allowed to let out the horrors of what had occurred in the appropriate disgusted manner instead of talking about it as if it was a good thing.

"They made me go tonight," he said, voice shaking.

"Go where?" Hermione asked.

"Go on the revel. To a muggle neighborhood," he got out between sobs.

The concern on her face was overwhelming. "They made you do terrible things didn't they."

Draco nodded, not wanting to tell her anymore, not wanting to see the disgust, disappointment, and anger contort her face. But he forced himself to continue. She needed to know who he really was, what he was capable of. It wasn't right to keep her in the dark about something as horrible as this, how dangerous the person she was currently living with was.

"I tortured a man while Bellatrix, she tortured his children upstairs. It was a test. I had to kill him or else they'd know. They'd know that I didn't kill you. They'd come after you. I killed him, Hermione. I killed him when he had done nothing wrong. I killed him after he begged. He begged us not to hurt his family, begged me not to hurt him, not to kill him…" he couldn't go on. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the dreaded emotions that would follow, bracing himself for her harsh words.

But they never came. Instead, warm arms came around him and drew him into an embrace, one of her hands coming up and gently pulling his head down onto her shoulder. Why didn't she leave? Why wasn't she cringing away from him? How could she stand to be around him?

"I don't want to go back," he found himself saying. "They're going to make me do it again."

"Then don't go back," she told him softly. She didn't understand.

"I'll have to. No one gets out once they're in. Anyone who has tried has been hunted down and killed," he explained.

"But no one else knows this place exists do they?" she asked.

"No, but they'll find it. They always find the deserter." He sniffled, trying to get the tears to stop flowing.

"Dumbledore could help you. He could protect you."

He sat back and looked into her worried eyes. "Anyone from your side would take one look at me and send me straight to Askaban. I don't understand how you can even bear to be near me knowing what I've done."

"Oh Draco. You and I both know that isn't who you are. The Order would surely see that as well. You didn't want to do these things, you had too, were forced to. And not just to protect yourself, but to protect me," she said.

He didn't believe that the Order would protect him and keep him free. He was evil. He was a monster. Had he really told her that he did those things to protect her? He guessed that he _had_ implied it. Draco hadn't expected her to react this way to learning that he had tortured and killed someone.

"Don't let this define you. The way your feeling right now, that is what separates you from the others. You are a good person Draco. Don't let yourself get dragged down into the darkness," she expressed.

Draco was shocked. After she had heard about what he had done, after being terrorized by him for years, she called him a good person. This didn't make sense! How could he be good when he had done such evil things?

She grabbed his hand in hers. "You're not alone Draco."

Those words echoed in his mind.

He wasn't alone.

He wasn't alone.

He wasn't alone, but the only reason he wasn't was because Hermione was _forced_ to be there. He wasn't alone because he had put her in an extremely dangerous situation. Draco found himself doubting. Were they really friends or was she just being nice? A small part of him wanted to believe that she was truly his friend. Why else would she be sitting on a bathroom floor with a mess like him in the middle of the night?

It didn't matter the reason. He was emotionally wrecked and she was there, holding him close as he cried. Goodness was in her nature, and right now, she was the only thing the pieces of his soul were clinging to.

* * *

He had done this to protect her.

Hermione wasn't sure what to think of the situation.

The thought horrified her that a family was tortured and murdered so that no one would discover she was alive. In her mind, those people were dead because of her and the notion evoked a physical pain deep inside.

She wanted to be furious with him, she wanted to scream, and cry, and hit, and run; but she couldn't. Hermione couldn't find it in herself to feel anything but overwhelming sadness.

She sat on the bathroom floor, with Draco Malfoy tucked into her embrace. Hermione saw how this event had broken him, how he felt he had no other options. He wasn't evil, but he was surrounded by it on all sides, pressing in on him, trying to snuff out any goodness the boy contained.

Hermione knew that this, the tears he shed, the way he thought of what had happened, all of it pointed to something more. Draco wasn't like the Death Eaters who laughed and enjoyed the sight of others in pain. He was deeply distraught over the events of the night and never wanted to go back there.

She knew that Dumbledore would help him, but Draco couldn't see that. Did he think he deserved to be in Askaban? Was that how he saw himself? Hermione had more faith than that in Dumbledore. When everyone else told him it was wrong, the man stuck to his beliefs and let not only muggle born witches and wizards study at the school, much to the displeasure of the pureblooded families, but also a werewolf and half giant teach. There was no way in Hermione's mind that he would abandon Draco now. But she also knew that she would have a difficult time convincing the distraught boy of that.

As the sobs diminished to shaky breaths, Hermione held tight to Draco's trembling body.

She wanted to tell him that everything was alright, but it wasn't. She wanted to say that she knew they would get through this, but she didn't know anything for certain, not even if the two of them would live to see the end of this war. All she knew was that they were there, together, sitting on the bathroom floor in silence, her pajamas wet with his tears.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Happy Sunday everyone! Wow, that was an intense chapter!**

 **Thank-you so much bennettfan84, chainline, and FortyFandoms for your reviews! Hearing your thoughts always makes my day.**

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 **Have a great week!**


	11. The Choice

**Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, not mine, blah, blah, blah (except the plot, the plot is mine)**

* * *

1997 – March 2

Silence filled the cabin. It wasn't the common quiet Hermione had faced those weeks Draco had spent at school, but an eerie, almost deathly silence that created a cold and dark atmosphere.

She knew Draco must be hurting, must be hating himself for what he did. That much, she had seen the previous night in the hours the two had spent together on that bathroom floor.

Hermione had woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of retching and sobbing. Knowing something absolutely horrible must have happened, she had gotten out of bed and headed towards the noise. Hermione hated that she could do nothing more than hold his quivering form as he wept, but in that moment, something shifted inside her.

The reason she couldn't feel the unquenchable anger she should have experienced, the reason she didn't turn away from him the second she was told of what he had done, it was because she _felt_ something for him. Hermione didn't quite understand what this meant yet, but couldn't deny the wrench in her heart when she first saw him in his state of distress, when she first gathered his trembling body into her arms.

The thought was completely and utterly insane. It had been such a short amount of time since she had really even discovered the true Draco Malfoy. Had she known before? Had she suspected as much? Was that why, even at school, she argued with Harry about Draco's intentions? Had she subconsciously been decoding the riddle of Draco Malfoy long before she had consciously noticed his struggle?

None of that mattered. At least not at this moment. Draco's soul was broken. He had been forced to become a murderer, forced to become the spawn of his father instead of his own person. She knew that eventually the hole could be patched up, but it would never heal completely, he would always carry that night with him.

Hermione knew that it wasn't going to be easy for him to get over this, nor should it be, but he shouldn't be locking himself in his room all day. She knew that it wasn't a good idea for Draco to be alone right now, doing nothing but reliving that night.

It was now early evening and had been hours since Draco had hidden himself away that morning. She couldn't imagine what horrible thoughts, what vile images, must be going through his mind. Even after not sleeping all night, Hermione doubted he had slept at all during his time alone that day.

After not hearing anything from him since their time in the bathroom, she was worried. She had knocked on his door, demanded he open it, even tried using magic to unlock it, but it was obviously warded. He probably just wanted some time to himself. Probably. But that didn't stop Hermione from seeing worst case scenarios.

So, she had been sitting on the sofa, just outside his room, all day in case he decided he no longer needed to be alone. She read books on advanced charms, potions, transfigurations, history, but nothing would keep her mind from slipping back to the boy in the next room.

Draco hadn't eaten all day and even though she understood he probably didn't have much of an appetite right then, he still needed food. Would he turn her down if she made him something?

Hermione got up determinedly from the sofa and walked over to the kitchen where she moved from cupboard to cupboard finding ingredients to make him some food, deciding that she needed to at least _try_ to get Draco to eat something. She got out a pan, turned on the stove and began making a cheese toasty. They were the comfort food her mother always used to make for her when she was upset as a child. Maybe it would help Draco now.

Hermione flipped the sandwich onto a plate and turned off the stove, then, finding a glass, she filled it with cold water from the tap and brought it over to Draco's room. While precariously balancing the glass in one hand and the plate on her forearm, she knocked on the door. She had learned to expect not to get an answer on the first knock, so she wasn't surprised when he didn't respond. She knocked again.

"Draco?" she called. Still, there was nothing. "Draco, please answer. I know you're hurting right now, but _please_ open the door."

There was more silence, but Hermione was not about to leave until Draco opened that door. For whatever reason, she needed to know that he was alright. Just as she was about to knock again, the door slowly opened and a greatly disheveled looking Draco stood darkly on the other side.

"What?" he asked. It seemed as if he was trying to sound harsh and cold, but the look of pain in his eyes took the edge out of the pointed statement.

Hermione shifted the plate back into her right hand and his eyes glanced down to the food.

She took a deep breath. "I know you're probably not very hungry, but I made you a grilled cheese sandwich. I hope it's alright that I found the ingredients and such. You haven't eaten all day, and it always helped when I was little and I was upset and my mother made some for me." She was rambling now. "You don't have to eat it if you don't want to, I just thought it might help some. I know you probably just want some space, that's what I would do as well, but it's not good to keep everything bottled up inside, or to just be sitting there with your thoughts." She paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, I'm talking talking to much." She shook her head and held out the plate and glass of water to Draco, hoping he would take Them.

"Thank you," he said simply, slowly taking the items from her hands and holding it in front of him. He looked at it.

"Maybe, I turned out this way because my mother never made me comfort food," he said.

"No, Draco. Don't say that. You're not a monster. Sure you've made some mistakes, but hasn't everyone? What happened was not your choice, it wasn't you. You are not a monster. You aren't like the others!" she insisted.

"You barely even know me," Draco commented quietly.

He looked to be about on the verge of tears again as he silently shut the door. Hermione sighed, still standing outside. Of course, he wouldn't listen to her. Couldn't he see the difference between the real Death Eaters who reveled at the pain of others, and the emotions he was now feeling?

Hermione decided he needed some more time. When he was ready, he would come out of hiding. Hearing her own stomach whining for food, she walked back to the kitchen to make another toasty for herself.

* * *

1997 – March 7

Draco was a mess.

It was Friday morning and he was completely exhausted. He hadn't gone to a single class all week and was probably going to be in a whole lot of trouble if he ever _did_ go back.

Every time he closed his eyes, the image of the man he had killed flashed in the darkness, making even the _thought_ of sleep impossible. The moment when the killing curse left his wand and drained the life from the nameless man begging in front of him kept replaying over and over in his mind.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, letting himself sit and think about the evil things he had done, but he just couldn't help it. The concerned, empathetic gaze he saw from Hermione sent so much shame flooding through his system. He couldn't leave his room and face her. She didn't see him as an evil monster, even after everything he had done. But he was, and he hated that she was stuck there with him when her kindness made her overlook that fact.

He was thankful and slightly amazed that Hermione kept making food for him and checking in to make sure he was alright. Every time she showed up at his door, he had to work extremely hard to control his emotions. He wasn't sure why he kept hiding, especially after that night in the bathroom, but he didn't want to let Hermione see him like this.

Oh, how he had waited for this moment since that Yule ball. This was what he had dreamed about for years, to have Hermione actually care about him. But now, it was clouded by the darkness of his recent actions.

Draco sat down on his bed. He had missed classes on Monday because he just couldn't bear to go there and face people, constantly questioning whether they knew about what had happened in that muggle neighborhood or not, paranoid that they thought he had killed Hermione. He could imagine people calling him out as a murderer, which he now could not refute.

That first day, he had gotten an owl from Snape.

 _Draco,_

 _You must make your decision quickly._

 _S.S._

To which Draco had been thoroughly confused and responded;

 _S.S._

 _What decision are you talking about?_

 _Draco_

To him, there really hadn't _been_ a decision to _make_. He _had_ to stay in the Dark Lord's good graces because the consequences for anything else were terrifying, for both Hermione and himself.

Now, Draco sat, staring at the parchment on which Snape's response was written. How was that even a choice? Both ways would lead to his and Hermione's destruction. How could Snape ask him to make this decision?

 _Draco_

 _The choices are to keep Miss Granger alive and both_

 _stay in hiding until this is over, or continue on the path_

 _you are headed, following your master which_

 _entails following through on his previous commands. You_

 _have until the next time you are called to make the choice._

 _If you decide to follow through on the first option, I_

 _strongly advise you to tell me or the Order where you_

 _are so you can be protected in the event that your_

 _location is discovered._

 _S.S._

Draco was furious with Snape. How could he let him go through that horrible night before giving him these options?

He was so confused. There was no way out of this mess. Snape _had_ to know that. He had even advised him to have people from the Order protect him because he knew they would be found!

Draco ran his fingers through his hair, tugging in frustration. He had killed a man in order to stay in the Dark Lord's good graces, and _now_ Snape was telling him that making the choice he had meant Hermione had to die anyway? Was there really no way he could save her? Draco knew that if he left the Dark Lord, he would do _anything_ to kill him, and Hermione. He knew too much, and that meant there was a good possibility Hermione also knew too much.

Snape had to be pretty convinced that Draco's occlumency skills wouldn't hold up against the Dark Lord's legilimency. If he was correct, facing the evil man would be the most dangerous for them both. If he looked into Draco's mind, he would not only discover that Hermione was still alive, but also exactly where she was.

The choices were really to keep Hermione alive, or not.

If he couldn't kill Hermione before, now would be even more impossible. How could he ever choose to kill her after everything that had happened? Then again, she would probably be killed in any case. The Death Eaters would find them and they would both have horrible deaths. If he chose this path, he would have become a murderer for nothing. He would have tortured and killed a man for no reason and that was hard to swallow.

He hated himself for even weighing the options. He needed to stop being so selfish. This was no longer about his life. He was already too far gone to save. He should be sent to Askaban. He _deserved_ to be. But he doubted even the Order could protect her.

How could he ever trust Snape again? Was he playing some sort of twisted game? Draco thought back to the letter telling him to participate in the revel. _He_ had thought there were no other options, but had Snape thought he had been clear?

 _Staying in the Dark Lord's good graces._

Had Snape meant that he was supposed to have already chosen whether or not Hermione was more important than his status as a Death Eater? Draco clenched his teeth together, furious with himself, and the world.

Why was he put in this situation? Why did everything have to be this difficult? He had killed a man!

 _But you learned something._ Draco had no idea where the thought had come from, but there it was. He admitted, he _had_ learned something, something profound, something that he had never encountered before. In that moment, he hadn't cared about himself. He hadn't cared that his soul was about to be ripped in two, he didn't care that there was no saving him from Askaban if he was ever caught, he didn't care about _anything_ but the safety of Hermione Granger.

Draco had told Hermione that he didn't want to go back, that he didn't want to be forced to do this any longer, but he had felt that there was no way out. Now, it didn't matter if it was his way out, or to his death, what mattered was that it was Hermione's way out.

His decision was made. There was _no way_ he could kill Hermione. He realized that it didn't really matter what happened to him, as long as she was safe. Considering his inability to kill the girl he knew continued to sit on the sofa outside his door, his death was fairly inevitable. No one had ever changed their stance in the war and lived. Everyone who had fled or hid had been hunted down and killed.

Moving along to the next issue at hand, Draco considered how he was to get into contact with the Order. Did he _want_ to get them involved? Would they help him? Would they assume the worst and take Hermione elsewhere and leave him to die? He thought about that for a moment. Yes, that would be horrible for him, but Hermione would be safer, wouldn't she?

Draco ran his hands across his face. Could he talk to Hermione about what he should do? Was he ready to face her? He had to be. He didn't have much time before his decision was discovered by the Dark Lord, and he needed to find a way to protect her. Slowly, heart pounding in his ears, he stood up from the bed, and walked to the door.

* * *

It was Friday morning and Hermione was exhausted. It was extremely difficult to sleep because her mind just would _not_ turn off. She had grown very lonely and even more worried as the week had gone on.

Hermione lay in bed and stared blankly at the ceiling as her mind wandered.

She thought about her friends back at Hogwarts, how they were doing, what they must be thinking. She worried about them, the pain they must be going through believing that she was dead.

And Draco, her only contact in this isolation was not to be seen. Sure she brought him food a few times every day and _tried_ to talk to him, but he shut her out. She missed that day they had spent together. She had felt happy for the first time in a while, and _Draco_ had seemed happy.

Her heart clenched at the thought of him, of what he was experiencing. Why was it that all she wanted to do was take away his pain? She couldn't understand her own emotions. He had terrorized her and her friends in school, yet, she wanted to comfort him.

Hermione dismissed the thought. It was time for her to make breakfast for Draco and herself, so she got up, dressed, and headed out into the kitchen.

She was shocked to smell food already cooking and Draco standing at the stove. Hermione stood there, wondering how he was, what he was thinking.

He put the food on two plates and turned around to put them on the table when he saw her. He froze, plates still in his hands.

"Hi," he said sort of awkwardly.

"Good morning," she replied. Hermione walked over to the table and Draco seemed to remember that he was holding the plates and quickly set them down. "How are you?" she asked seriously.

"I'm fine," he answered, taking a bite.

"No you're not," she told him.

He looked at her and the dark circles that had formed under his eyes suggested that she was right. It seemed as though he had not had any sleep in the past few days and was wrestling through some very heavy things. It was completely expected given what had happened.

He cleared his throat. "Snape owled me," he said.

"What do you mean he _owled_ you?"

"He knows what is going on. He figured it out. Said he wanted to help. I wouldn't tell him this location for anything but, he even covered for me that first time I was called."

She remembered that first time. So that was why he hadn't left to meet the other Death Eaters. Her eyes went wide. Did that mean Snape was a Death Eater? She was so confused. Why would he want to help if he figured out what had really happened to her?

"He's the one who told me I needed to go… that night…" he took a deep breath. "He owled me again a few days ago telling me to make a decision."

"What decision?" she asked.

"That's what I asked. He sent an owl back saying that it was a choice between…" he paused as if not wanting to say it out loud. "between staying where I am as a Death Eater, meaning," he cleared his throat again. "killing you, or becoming a deserter and keeping you alive."

Hermione was shocked. _Professor Snape_ had given him the option of _killing_ her? Wait, Professor Snape sent Draco on that revel then asked him to give up being a Death Eater? Something didn't seem right here. Why wouldn't he give Draco a way out before traumatizing him like that?

"Have you made a decision then?" she asked quietly.

"You think I would kill you?" he questioned, sounding hurt.

"Not really," she replied, though it didn't seem to squash the hurt in his eyes.

"I just don't know how to keep you safe. If I'm a deserter, they have ways of finding people. If I continued to work for the Dark Lord, he could discover everything; including where you are," he explained.

Now she felt horrible. How could she have said something like that? Especially after witnessing his breakdown after what he had been forced to do by the Death Eaters, how could she question his decision? Of course he wouldn't kill her! She didn't know why that came out of her mouth. He just wanted to keep her safe and there she was basically accusing him of wanting to kill her!

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have questioned you. I don't know why I did. I know that you wouldn't kill me to be a Death Eater-" he interrupted her.

"I _am_ a Death Eater and there's no changing that fact. I'm marked and nobody can undo that. The only thing that is different are my actions and intentions." He looked down at his plate.

"No, Draco. You are _not_ a Death Eater. The mark is just one part. The title Death Eater describes who you follow, it describes your views and prejudices. You may be marked, but you are not a Death Eater," Hermione insisted, but by the way he looked down at his plate and shook his head slightly, she could see that he didn't believe what she was saying.

He took a breath. "Snape wants me to tell either him or the Order of this location but I'm not sure what I should do. I don't even know how I would contact the Order."

"Tell Dumbledore," Hermione quickly advised. He would know what to do, he would be able to protect them. "Explain to him what happened, why you did what you did, and what you want moving forwards. One thing everyone knows about Dumbledore is that he loves to give second chances. It certainly helps that he is the leader of the Order of the Phoenix."

Draco seemed skeptical. She covered his hand with her own and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Dumbledore will help us," she told him, eyes locked with his.

Silence stretched out between them. With her hand still clasped with his, she waited in anticipation for his reply.

Finally, he nodded his acceptance.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hey You!**

 **Yes you, the one who just finished reading my new chapter and now is going to move on with their day without another thought. Let me ask you a question. If you are an author, do you like getting reviews? If you aren't an author, would you like to get reviews if you did write?**

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 **Thanks to bennettfan84, FortyFandoms, and Elena for your thoughts.**

 **To everyone else. If you answered 'yes' to the above questions, leave me a couple words of encouragement. It is going to be very difficult for me to update in the next few weeks due to school and I am going to need a lot of motivation if I am going to get my work done in time to update for Sunday.**

 **Thanks and have a great week!**


	12. The Confession

**Disclaimer: As always, JK Rowling is the mastermind**

* * *

1996 - October

 _"I saw you staring at the mudblood."_

 _Draco looked up from his homework to see Gregory Goyle standing in front of him, seeming slightly unsure of himself. Was he really about to do this? Was Goyle really about to blow his cover? He wouldn't dare, would he? The boys had all seemed a bit afraid of him after learning that he had taken the Dark Mark._

 _"Wasn't," Draco replied absently, going back to his work._

 _Goyle noticeably took a rather shaky breath before nodding his head determinedly and plunking down beside him. He was really going to do this. To say Draco was surprised would be an understatement._

 _"Of course, you were just watching the Gryffindor table and were staring at the invisible creature that left the table right when Granger did," he accused, voice more stable than Draco thought it would be._

 _Draco sighed. This could not be happening. After having kept his feelings a secret all this time, how could people be noticing now? Especially Goyle. If he had noticed, Draco wondered how many others had as well. The thought was rather frightening._

 _"Stay out of my business Goyle," he said in a low voice._

 _"You're not having feelings for the Mudblood now are you? Cause, you know how bad that would be."_

 _"I'm not," Draco stated firmly and coldly, though he did not look up._

 _"Well good, because Mudblood Granger is going down in this war and you don't want to be going down with her."_

 _Draco flinched at the word mudblood being used with her name. The Slytherins had begun doing that recently and Draco absolutely hated it._

 _"Everything is fine. Now, leave me alone," Draco demanded, hoping the other boy would listen._

 _"Hey, don't play me. I know what I saw and I have to say it scared me a bit. Want to make sure it's not true. Some of the guys are talking. They say you're in love with-," Goyle explained._

 _Draco interrupted him. "I am not in love with her." This time he gave Goyle a glare._

 _Greg stuck his hands in the air as a sort of surrender. "Look. I'm just watching out for a friend. I hear things, you know. My father, he talks about… stuff." He paused and lowered his voice. "Mudbloods like her are going to be the first to go. Mudblood Granger will be dead and everyone close to her will meet a similar fate. Just don't want you to be one of those people." Draco sneered threateningly, causing Goyle to jump for his feet and edge towards the exit. "Just wanted to make sure," he repeated before ducking out._

 _Draco stared at his homework in shock._

 _This was bad. Really bad. Goyle's father was a Death Eater, and one that wasn't currently imprisoned. If he happened to tell his father about this, both him and Granger would be dead! Ugh, now, even the thought of the name 'Granger' left a foul taste in his mouth. He hated how it was being paired up with the derogatory term. Could he keep himself from slipping up though if he thought of her as Hermione? Did it even matter anymore if Goyle and possibly others already knew?_

 _Hermione. Draco felt the edges of his mouth hitch up a bit in the first attempt at a true smile he had experienced in a long while. He liked the name, he liked pretending that he was deserving of the ability to use it, or at least think it. It was beautiful and suited her. He would just have to be more careful, especially when he was around his friends._

 _It wasn't as if he could really be in love with her anyway. He hadn't even had a single nice conversation with her. He didn't really even know her. He wanted to though. He wished he was allowed to be nice to her, wished he didn't have to treat her like the garbage all the other Slytherins thought she was. What he really wished was that he were allowed to try to get to know her better, try to be her friend, perhaps, even try for a bit more._

* * *

1997

 _Dumbledore,_

 _You were right. I am in trouble. I tried to do the right thing and_

 _now everything is messed up. I was sent to kill Hermione but I_

 _couldn't do it. I took her to a secret place I use to get away from_

 _everything. She is completely fine now, but I had to make people_

 _believe she was dead so the Death Eaters wouldn't go after her, or_

 _me. I've been trying to keep her safe, but they made me do some_

 _really bad things and now I don't think I can do this anymore._

 _You said you could help me, but I don't deserve you're help._

 _Hermione does though and I don't know how to protect her_

 _anymore._

 _Draco_

Draco read the letter over and over again, as if these words alone would determine Hermione's fate. When he finally decided they were good enough, he tied the parchment to the leg of his owl and sent it off to Dumbledore.

He took a deep breath. Draco had officially made the decision to become a deserter and that was a terrifying thought. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but he trusted Hermione. She was the only thing that mattered anyway.

Draco went out into the sitting room to find Hermione curled up on the sofa in front of the blazing fireplace, reading a book.

He cleared his throat. "I sent the letter to Dumbledore explaining everything," he told Hermione as he sat down beside her.

"That's good," she said, setting her book down beside her.

Draco had a burning question on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn't quite sure if he should ask it. He thought of himself as a monster, yet, she kept telling him that he wasn't. He had killed someone. Why would she say he wasn't evil, wasn't a monster, when he had done such terrible things? He knew that she told him that she understood it wasn't who he was but he still couldn't comprehend how she could always look beyond those things. Finally, he decided to ask.

"Hermione," he paused. "How do you still see the good in me? Even after everything I've done. Nobody else does, including myself."

She seemed to ponder the question for a moment before answering. "I've noticed how much you've changed, even before all this happened. I'm not sure exactly what it is, I just know that you're not a bad person. And about everyone else, I don't think you really allow them to see anything other than the bully you've been showing them for years."

"But how can you look beyond the things I've done?" he asked.

She sighed. "Everyone makes mistakes."

But his mistakes were huge. Not just the horrible deeds he had done that previous Saturday night, but the things he had done specifically to her ate him up inside. He had said things to her that he wished that he could take back. He had told her that she was ugly, annoying, a know-it-all, unworthy to be a witch. He had insulted her for things that she couldn't change, nor did she have any say in to begin with.

As she sat beside him, looking at him with a quiet innocence and genuine beauty, Draco wondered if anyone had ever told her that she was beautiful. Did she know that she had the power to take his breath away with a single look? Had she ever been told how talented she was or how her personality could lighten a heavy room or warm a cold atmosphere? He didn't know if she had ever heard those things, but he did know that he hadn't said them. He had only told her the opposite. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to fix that. She deserved to know that she was special, she deserved to know that she was more to him than just a burden or a rescue mission, more than someone to do his homework like the friends she normally surrounded herself with. But he couldn't. How could he? She would know how he really felt about her. Then again, was that such a bad thing? Was he really even attempting to prevent that anymore?

* * *

The way Draco was looking at her was slightly strange. Something she couldn't quite place was putting a light in his eyes. Was it just the fact that she had said he wasn't a bad person? But hadn't she been saying that for days? Maybe he needed constant reassurance? After what had happened, it wouldn't be surprising.

Nothing was fully adding up to Hermione in the past weeks that she had been at the cabin. His story didn't seem to make sense with the evidence that kept coming up. She ran through it in her mind. According to him, he had shown up to kill her and couldn't do it so he brought her back here. But Hermione had noticed so much that conflicted with that.

There were new clothes in the wardrobe. For some reason the wardrobe just _happened_ to be filled with clothes her size? Then there was the fact that he had cared for her. He made her food, helped her when she had collapsed all that time ago. Yes, he was mean the first couple days, cold and detached for the next couple weeks but that had faded away. He had spent time with her, they had talked and laughed and gone on that walk. Then that awful night had happened and he confessed what he had done.

What didn't make sense to her about this was, if he had truly just decided on the spot to spare her, why would he have gone to such lengths to protect her? Why did he listen to her when she suggested going to Dumbledore? Why did he desert the Dark Lord and his followers when it went against everything he had ever been taught?

There was a lot more to this story than he was telling her and she hated not knowing. She hated not being in control. What she hated even more, was being lied to, and right then, things were not making sense with what he had been telling her.

"Draco, so much isn't adding up to me," she began slowly.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I don't think you're telling me everything about why I'm here. I have been trying to figure it out, but nothing is making much sense."

"Maybe you don't have to know everything," he told her strictly.

"That is not fair. I think I deserve some sort of proper explanation. I know you told me some, but it doesn't make sense. Not anymore."

"Why can't you just leave this alone?!" he asked, volume rising.

"Because there is a lot more to this and I need to know what is really going on!" she argued. Why was he being so stubborn? Then it hit her. He wasn't telling her _any_ of the truth. Voldemort hadn't sent him to kill her because he thought she would get in the way of his victory, there was no way he would believe that a muggle-born could be that much of a threat. Her head spun with questions and she was beginning to get a bit frightened.

"You know enough!" Draco claimed.

"Why do I have this feeling that I don't know anything?" she asked. "I have given up so much and yet, you refuse to even tell me the truth about why any of this is even happening? I let my friends, whom I care about greatly, believe that I am dead, I gave up finishing my sixth year of education, which you know full well is a big deal for me, and still, you tell me nothing! What is really going on here?!"

Draco seemed very conflicted, his eyes darting back and forth as he thought. Then suddenly, his eyes locked onto hers. Was he going to tell her? Her heart thudded in her chest as the silence drew out between them. His eyes flickered downwards slightly, resting on her… lips? It was then that she realized how close they had gotten during their fight, both edging towards the other as they argued. Now, her breath caught. Her body was frozen, she couldn't even move as he drew even closer and Hermione felt something shift within her; an anticipation, an excitement. She could feel the heat of his breath on her face as slowly, his lips brushed against hers, softly, almost timidly.

Before she could even react, he pulled himself away, looking quite angry with himself. Hermione was shocked and slightly more confused, lips tingling.

Was _that_ his explanation? Was that the reason why he had been sent to kill her, why he decided to spare her, and why everything else occurred that followed? That actually made some sense, except for the fact that he had _hated_ her in school, hadn't he?

Draco Malfoy had just kissed her. He had kissed her, and even more astonishing than that, she wanted more. Was that the something else she could never quite place? That other feeling that she couldn't quite describe? She wasn't supposed to like Draco. They had just become friends! But for some reason, that kiss had erupted a fire within her, and everything was beginning to come clear. She had been disappointed when he had pulled away, not giving her the chance to return the kiss, to increase the contact. And now he seemed angry with himself that he had done it, that he regretted kissing her.

According to everything that had happened, this was not a recent attraction. Then why did he look so distraught that he had done it? She realized that she _hadn't_ returned the kiss. Not that he given her time granted, but in his eyes, had she rejected him?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he said quietly.

Without another thought to talk herself out of it, Hermione leaned closer, closing the small gap that he had put between them, and kissed him. His surprise was obvious but he quickly recovered and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer until her body was pressed against him. She felt it when his lips responded and expertly explored hers, adding the pressure she had been craving. Absentmindedly, her hand snaked up the back of his neck, pulling him closer. It felt amazing to be wrapped in his arms; safe, comforted, protect. . . perfect.

She broke the kiss separated them so just their noses were brushing, both breathing deeply.

"Was that your answer?" she whispered.

"Yes," he replied.

"What does this mean?"

Draco pulled away further, letting his arm slip from around her, her hand dropping back to her side.

"It means that everything was _my_ fault. The decision to send me to kill you, it was because of me," he told her.

"I don't understand."

Draco looked like he was almost in pain, deciding what he could tell her.

"Because I didn't. . . hate you when I was supposed to. Far from that. They saw it as a weakness that I needed to get rid of, but I couldn't, so I made my own plan to save you," he finally explained.

Hermione was shocked. Draco hadn't hated her, as he put it, and it made her a target, one that he was supposed to get rid of. It explained everything, the appearance of previous planning, the care he had shown her, the lengths to which he went to protect her. All of this was so much to take in. The thing that bugged her was why he acted the way he did towards her at school.

"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked.

"I wanted to keep you out of this for as long as possible. I knew what would happen if anyone found out. Which was exactly what _did_ take place when someone noticed. Everything that is happening to you and your friends right now is my fault and I'm sorry."

"This is not your fault Draco. I don't blame you, I blame Voldemort and the Death Eaters who put you in the situation where you couldn't 'not hate' someone. It isn't right that you have to be afraid like that," Hermione paused. "Why didn't you tell me the truth after you 'kidnapped' me?"

"I was afraid that it would scare you, that it would just be easier for everyone if it stayed a secret," he answered eyes drifting downward, towards the floor.

Hermione's heart broke for him. He had been living with the weight that he was the reason all this was happening. He had been afraid to talk to her, to get to know her, afraid that people would find out. A warm feeling spread throughout her though at the thought that he had been protecting her for a while, even without her knowledge, that the reason he was mean to her was because he wanted to keep her _safe_.

Hermione reached out and grabbed his hand in hers. "You don't have to hide anymore," she told him.

His eyes came up to meet hers again.

"Do…" he took a long breath. "Do you want to have a date tomorrow?" he asked quietly, as if unsure of himself. Even after the past week, it was strange to hear that tone to his voice.

Hermione giggled. "A date? But we can't go anywhere."

A small smile flitted across Draco's lips, just barely large enough to be noticed. "We could have a date here. Have some food, sit by the fire, play some music," he explained.

"I'd like that."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Here's Chapter 12! Hooray! I did _not_ think I was going to get this chapter up this week. It is a little bit shorter than usual, but I had absolutely no time to do anything but school work this week.**

 **Your reviews made me feel so happy and loved! Thank-you so much Sachiko Heiwajima, negativecreep91, sonnetStar, bennettfan84, katyms113, SereniteRose, and Kat of a Different Color!**

 **Your reviews are seriously the only thing that got this chapter posted!**

 **This week I am headed on vacation so it is going to be really difficult again for me to post. I do have a day or so before next Sunday to write, but I also have more school work to do! If I get that many reviews again, I just might be able to get it done.**

 **Thanks for reading and have an amazing week!**

 **(P.S. Next chapter's title is "The Date")**


	13. The Date

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the brilliant one, I just play along**

* * *

1997 – February 4

 _Draco could hear his heart thundering in his chest, time seeming to move in slow motion. He stared at the table in front of him in an attempt not to let the Dark Lord see how terrified he was._

 _He hated these meetings. Everything about them made Draco feel a growing ache inside, a bubble of fear rising up every time he even looked at the room. The dark magic that had been used in the space seemed to cling to the walls and the furniture, making his skin tingle with dread. There was always some different horrifying aspect to the meetings, whether it be punishing the misdeed of a follower, torturing some unfortunate soul who dared stand against them, or simply planning the next attack. This meeting was different and Draco was doing everything in his power to keep his panic internal._

 _All eyes seemed to be on him, as though they all knew something that he didn't. They probably did considering he had been back at school for almost two months since the holidays were over. Draco hadn't been around as much to hear the regular Death Eater gossip, which he had been very relieved about until this moment. The moment when he was the subject of such rumors. He wondered what was going on. Why was he the center of attention? His stomach lurched over the thought that he would be given a task to complete. He didn't want to have to hurt someone again. The last time he had thrown up on the floor and been tortured himself for it, told that he needed to build up an enjoyment for torturing others or he would be punished._

 _Now, he shook with fear as the Dark Lord sat at the head of the table. Draco tried to tune out the words of excitement exchanged over the previous revel. He was glad that he had not yet been forced to participate in one, as even the description of what occurred made him nauseous. They talked with evil grins about the accomplishment of leaving behind no witnesses, chuckled over stories of how their victims begged, or how long they got them to scream before falling unconscious. It sickened Draco to know that he was associated with these people and that one day he was likely going to be asked to go along on a revel. Hopefully, that day wouldn't be today, but with everyone watching him, that hope was fading._

 _"And now, we come to our largest problem this evening," the Dark Lord announced. "It seems that young Draco here has a bit of a crush." There was a sneering laughter around him. "It appears as if he has developed a crush . . . on a mudblood."_

 _How did they know about his feelings for Hermione? He looked over at Mr. Goyle. Had his 'friend' really told his father about his suspicions of Draco's attraction? Apparently he had let it slip and of course his father would rat him out to the Dark Lord._

 _"How shall we deal with this . . . problem?" the Dark Lord asked his followers._

 _"Punish him my lord! Teach him a lesson as to what his views are," someone cruelly suggested._

 _Draco gulped. This was not going to be good._

 _"Make him kill her! That would be the ultimate lesson and she could be his first murder!" His aunt suggested._

 _"Ah, I am interested in your proposition," the Dark Lord agreed._

 _This could not be happening. He could not be forced to kill Hermione; he couldn't do it!_

 _There were other awful suggestions made but when the Dark Lord held up his hand, the room went silent._

 _"Draco," he said. "You have been such a disappointment. But, I will give you a chance to redeem yourself. Kill the girl by two weeks from today, and your little crush will be forgiven. Do not follow in your father's footsteps and disappoint me again. And know, if you do not kill the mudblood, someone else will."_

 _"Yes, my lord," he managed. "Thank you."_

 _He couldn't let this happen! He couldn't let Hermione die because of him! Draco needed to figure out a plan. In the next two weeks, he had to find a way to save Hermione._

 _He tried to block all thoughts of Hermione out of his mind. He could not be thinking about saving her in the event of the Dark Lord using legilimency against him. He would have to practice occlumency, master the skill well enough to stand up against the Dark Lord's probing. But for now, Draco couldn't allow any thought of Hermione to be seen by the terrifying man. It would be the end of them both._

* * *

1997 – March 8

Draco stood by the stove, cooking dinner the muggle way, mind wandering and analyzing everything that had happened in the past 24 hours.

Hermione had gotten him so flustered. Somehow she had figured out his deception, everything he had been attempting to hide from her, and forced it out into the open. She was right though; she did deserve an explanation. A true explanation, one he didn't want to have to tell her. Sometimes, Draco found it difficult to use his words, a challenge to admit the expanse of emotions he was feeling, terrified of what could result from their exposure.

He had kissed her.

Draco couldn't believe he would do something so impulsive! Their arguing had brought them so close together, and he just couldn't get the words out of his mouth, so his body seemed to take over apart from his brain. It seemed as though he was always able to hide his emotions, to be in control of his actions, except when it came to Hermione. It was as if every time he even looked at that frizzy haired beauty, his brain simply shut down and melted.

His kiss had been short, light, and unsure. He didn't want to scare her or force himself upon her, so he had held back, their lips barely brushing. As soon as he had done it, he thought he had made a horrible mistake. He had crossed a line and might never be able to step back across to the other side. What if she really didn't want that from him? He thought that he had just ruined the new friendship they had so recently built. But he was wrong.

When Hermione leaned over to kiss him again, it was as if he was in some sort of dream. Her kiss was tender and passionate, her fingers in his hair, her body pressed against his, it made him feel so alive. He had no idea that she could possibly have feelings for him as well. It felt amazing to have her in his arms after all this time of staying away from her.

Draco thought about this. Was he doing the right thing? Was having a date with Hermione a good idea? Was the possibility of a relationship with her going to hurt her more than benefit? Draco knew that she deserved much better than him. He could never give her anything but pain and misery. He was a Death Eater, even if he hadn't had any choice in the matter. He was still marked and would always be treated as a follower of the Dark Lord. Would Hermione be shunned by her friends and family? When he probably was either killed or sent to Askaban, would he break her heart? The answer to all of these questions were most likely yes.

Maybe they could still have one nice night together and he could bring these questions up later. But would she really care about those things? Hermione was known for her self sacrificing behavior. Was he the only one who could protect her from himself? Draco didn't know what to do.

He was in the middle of preparing for the date. Should he call it off? He didn't want to disappoint her either. One night. Maybe he could give them one night. Draco was busy rushing around the kitchen preparing a nice dinner for the two of them to share. Hermione was in her room, reading. He wanted it to be sort of a surprise for her when she came out, he wanted to be able to "pick her up" from her room like he would have for a date if they weren't in this mess, he wanted their first date to be more real than dinner at the same table they had eaten at for the past month.

As the dinner cooked, he went through the storage closet and brought out two tall candles and some sort of machine he was told could play music. He had bought it for Hermione, thinking she might like it. She would have to be the one to get it to play as he had absolutely no idea how the thing worked. He brought out with it some sort of designed plastic square things that were somehow needed to play the music. Hopefully Hermione would know what those were as well and didn't make him feel like a complete idiot.

As his first, and possibly last date with Hermione, Draco wanted it to be perfect. Keeping the dinner in their pots for a few more minutes he left to get changed into the nicest robes he had at the cabin before going back out to put the food on the table. He lit the candles with a flick of his wand and dimmed the lights.

With a deep breath, Draco turned and walked down the hallway toward Hermione's room, knocking on the door.

Why was he so nervous? His stomach felt like an acrobat flipping around inside of him and his hand was shaking slightly. He was finally getting the date that he had dreamed about for so long and he didn't want to mess it up.

The door opened and Hermione stood in front of him wearing the pastel blue dress robes he had bought for her in the _very_ slim possibility of something like this happening. She had tamed her hair and put it up, allowing every inch of her gorgeous face to be seen.

"You look beautiful," he told her softly, offering his hand to her.

She took his hand, smiling rather awkwardly, as if she didn't get complimented often."You look rather handsome yourself," she replied.

Draco lead her into the kitchen and played the gentleman, pulling out her chair for her. She giggled quietly and he loved the sound, glad that he could at least make her smile.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I got this music machine thing and I have no idea how to get it to work," he told her, gesturing towards the counter.

"Bring it here," she said, a smile still plastered on her face.

He did as she told him and gave her the machine as well as the strange plastic squares. Hermione expertly popped the top part of the machine open and then picked up one of the plastic squares after looking at the decorations on the front of each on them. To Draco's surprise, she opened the plastic part and took out a shiny, flat, circular disk, putting it into the machine and closing the top before waving her wand over it. They had said something about the electric so maybe that was why she needed magic to get it to play.

Draco almost jumped when Hermione pressed one of the buttons on the machine and music actually came out of it. So it did work. A soft melody played on the piano filled the air and set a nice atmosphere. Draco hadn't been sure what she would like considering he knew nothing about muggle music, so he played it safe with the instrumental piano.

Hermione passed it back to him.

"Put it back on the counter," she told him. Draco just nodded and took it back. "Why do you have a stereo and CDs?" she asked.

Oh, so that was what the machine was called. He just shrugged.

Hermione smiled at his response. "You got it for me didn't you."

"Maybe," Draco replied, sitting down at the table.

A minute or two after they started eating, Hermione spoke again. "So, tell me. Who is the real Draco Malfoy?" she asked.

"The real Draco Malfoy? You mean the one other than the cruel bully and Death Eater?" he questioned back, putting another bite of food into his mouth.

"I mean the one who hides himself from the rest of the world," she clarified.

"What do you want to know?" he asked. It was a terrifyingly vulnerable question to ask, but he really did want her to know that he wasn't the boy who called her horrible names and beat her down at every chance he got.

"I don't know. What class do you like best in school? Do you like to drink pumpkin juice with breakfast? Who is your best friend? What sorts of things do you do just to relax?" she spouted.

"Whoa there! Let me answer first," he told her playfully. "My favorite class is potions, yes I like to drink pumpkin juice with breakfast. The other two, well, I don't really have anyone I would consider a friend. Just getting away from everyone was relaxing, but I always find solace in a good book." There was so much more he wanted to tell her, but knew he couldn't. Not right now anyway. He wanted to tell her that every moment of every day had been full of stress because he couldn't get her out of his head and that was a terrifying thought considering who he surrounded himself with and who they enjoyed bullying. Draco wanted to say that he only found some sort of relief when he had finally accepted his feelings but could never let her know, only to watch from afar, that his once terrifying thoughts became the one thing that kept him sane the year that the Dark Lord had returned.

"What do you mean you don't have any friends?" she asked.

Draco sighed. "I hung around with people of course, but while they were raging about how all the _mudbloods_ should be put to death, I was questioning if _muggle-borns_ were really any different from us other than the way we were brought up. I was terrified to share my thoughts with anyone." Hermione mumbled something Draco couldn't quite here. "What was that?" he asked.

"Oh, it's nothing. You don't want to hear it," she said, shaking her head and looking down at her plate.

"No, I want to hear," he replied genuinely. He didn't want to miss a word that she was saying to him. Every pleasant word from her mouth addressed to him was something he had long wished for.

"I just said that you and Harry could have been friends. Of course not Ron as he probably grew up being told to stay away from the Malfoys. No offense." She paused. "Harry wouldn't have really known what the name was connected with. You could have gotten along well and Harry is pretty good about hearing out opinions." She was rambling and he knew she felt awkward for bringing it up.

There was no way he and Potter could have ever been friends! Draco would have laughed if Hermione didn't look so sad. He guessed thinking about them like that brought to the surface how much she missed them. Draco wanted to know what that was like, to miss someone when they weren't around.

"What about you? What was it like coming to a wizard school when you had grown up a muggle?" he asked.

"It was amazing actually. I had no idea what to expect at first but I soon read every book I could get my hands on before I even came for first year." She looked down, smiling, a bit embarrassed. "I met Harry and Ron on the train on that first trip and it was the start of a friendship I really hadn't had before. Sure, I had friends in my muggle school, but no one understood me, and everyone, even my friends teased me about being strange. I loved learning that first year and soaked up _every bit_ of information I could." Hermione chuckled a bit. "I understand I was a bit annoying for some professors, and some other students, but I just wanted to catch up on all the amazing things I had been missing out on."

Again, Draco felt the pang of guilt that came with the remembrance of the nickname know-it-all. All the negative thoughts about how she was constantly bragging about her brilliant mind were completely wrong. She hadn't just been a nerdy know-it-all, she had been a little girl exploring a new world for the first time and school had been the only way she'd known how.

Draco turned his attention toward his plate, pushing the final morsels of food around with his fork. Every time she talked about her experiences at Hogwarts, it reminded him of how terrible he had acted concerning her. It made him feel awful about everything he and the kids he hung around had put her through. He wished he could have seen the light sooner. If only he hadn't been so brainwashed.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked.

He took a deep breath, contemplating what he could tell her. "Just how I wish that I could have started questioning the prejudice shite I was taught earlier. Then I could have been the one to show you the wonders of magic." Draco hadn't really meant to say that last part. Where the hell had his filter gone? It was like he had been holding all this in for so long that once it started to get out, he couldn't stop his mouth from spouting it.

Trying to act as if he hadn't just told her that, Draco cleared the now empty plates over to the counter and grabbed the dessert he had prepared, heading over to the fireplace where he had set up a fluffy blanket.

Hermione followed him.

"When did you start questioning your prejudices?" she asked, sitting down beside him.

Why did she always ask questions that he couldn't answer? He wanted to tell her the truth, that he had known something wasn't right about the prejudices he had been taught long ago, perhaps the day that she had hit him across the face. That feeling of something not being right grew into a deeper questioning, all stemming from the Yule ball. That was the first time he had truly been able to see Hermione as a girl, not a bookworm, not an annoying nuisance, but a girl, who was more beautiful than any of his previous girlfriends without even seeming to try. Draco knew if he told her this it would scare her. It would scare him if he found out someone had been watching him for years, secretly admiring him from a far. He didn't want to frighten her.

Draco shrugged. "It was a gradual thing," he said. The way Hermione looked at him made him think that she knew he wasn't telling her everything, but she wasn't going to push it.

She sighed. "Maybe one day you'll tell me."

One day. What did that mean? Draco questioned what her intentions were. Did that mean she thought this should happen again? No, she shouldn't mean that. He was nowhere close to being good enough for her.

All the thoughts that had come up while cooking dinner earlier flooded back into his mind. Hermione would get hurt. That was all that could come out of this. Draco couldn't let that happen. He had worked so hard to protect her and wasn't about to do something to hurt her like this now. It didn't matter that he wanted to be with her so badly even his bones ached with longing. It didn't matter that he had been waiting years for the moment when she would have any feelings for him other than hate. It didn't matter that he was finally getting his chance with Hermione Granger and was going to completely destroy it. Draco knew he couldn't let her do this to herself.

"We shouldn't do this again," he said decisively, standing up. Draco hated the look of hurt that flashed in Hermione's expression.

"I don't understand," she said quietly. "I thought we were having a nice time."

"Well, maybe you don't know everything." He immediately cringed at his words. He knew what it sounded like. It sounded like he hated the time he had just spent with her. It sounded as though each minute were forced and torturous.

He sighed, watching as she turned her face away toward the fire so he wouldn't see the embarrassment and pain he had just caused.

"I'm not who you are supposed to be with. You deserve better," he finally told her.

"That's ridiculous," she replied.

"No, it really isn't. You will get out of here, won't be forced to stay with me all the time, you'll move on. You'll find someone who will tell you the things that I won't, who will be able to take care of you like I can't, someone who can make your life better rather than dragging you down. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have suggested this." Draco turned to go back to the kitchen and start cleaning up.

"Wait!" Hermione called. "Draco. You're not going to even let us try? Because you have such low self esteem you are just going to toss away every good thing that ever comes to you?"

Draco sighed and stood still. Didn't she understand that there was no hope for them? That the only thing that was going to come out of this was heartbreak? Didn't she see that he was going to be gone and she was going to have to deal with the judgment of everyone from her side of this war? Draco cared about her too much to be the cause of her pain any more than he already was.

"It's not a self-esteem issue," he said darkly, without turning around. He flinched when a hand touched his shoulder and whipped his head around.

"Then what is it?" she asked.

"No good will come from this," he growled. "Any involvement with me will just make your life hell! Why don't you stay in your room and I can stay in mine? We'll make schedules for the other things-"

"Shut up!" she demanded, raising her voice. "Stop overreacting, stop thinking so much! It isn't your decision anyway, unless you don't like me. If you are talking about me being a victim here, I will not have it! It is my life and it is my choice." Hermione paused and dropped her voice again. "Let's just calm down. There is no need to do something so stupid, awkward and unnecessary like avoid each other when we are confined to the same house, so let's just take a deep breath here. We are here together anyway and I am not going to go out of my way to avoid you. Let me make this very clear. I want to try this. I _want_ to try this. Now, if you truly don't, then that is another matter. But I was having a nice time and I still don't quite understand why you had to go and ruin it."

Hermione was right. It was her life and this was her choice. She was a strong, independent girl, she could have said no to all of this if she had wanted. A warm feeling filled him. She really wanted to try this with him. A part of himself was angry that he was trying to push her away like that. This girl, whom he had dreamed of being with for years, was actually wanting to be with him and he was trying to stop her. Was he insane? Draco just wanted what was best for her and he knew he wasn't it. But it wasn't his choice.

Draco took a breath. He really had ruined the night, hadn't he? He didn't know what to say to fix this. He looked into Hermione's questioning brown eyes, still containing a hint of hurt within them. Did she really think that he was going back on this date because he found he didn't really like her? That was ridiculous.

Draco knew he had messed up. Tomorrow. If they were still trapped in that cabin together, they could have another chance if she wanted to as well.

"I . . . I'm sorry." How many times would he have to apologize to her? Draco kept doing things that caused her pain, even when he didn't have to play the role of the bully. But seeing her standing in front of him, firm in her beliefs, confident in her decision, he couldn't lie to her. He couldn't make her believe he didn't want this. _It isn't my choice what she puts her heart into_ , Draco reminded himself. If she wanted this to happen, he would let her, let her risk her heart, let her risk her friends and her life. As much as he wanted to believe he had the power to change her mind, this was Hermione Granger.

"I really did mess this up. I . . . I really do want to try this. I know that it will end badly but . . . you're right. It isn't my decision to make. Can we . . . can we start over and try again?" he asked. A small smile appeared on Hermione's face. "Tomorrow, maybe?"

"Alright," she agreed.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hey guys! I am _so_ sorry I didn't update last week, things got pretty crazy! I went on vacation for a few days and my flight back ended up getting delayed for an entire day and when I got back I had so much work to do, I still ended up pulling an all nighter this week finishing a paper. I also only had an hour or so to edit this one so I hope it is alright. I really wanted to get this up for you so I decided I would post it even without very much editing.**

 **A huge thanks to Sachiko Heiwajima, bennettfan84, SereniteRose, Amelina5, and pandabear1415 for your reviews!**

 **I am going to need some more encouragement this week as I have two more papers, a midterm, and a quiz all this week and have barely started any of it! Please review and I will try as hard as I can to get another chapter up next Sunday. Your reviews really do motivate me and to be honest, this week again your reviews helped me to get this chapter up for you guys.**

 **Thanks for reading, following/favoriting, and reviewing! Have an awesome week!**


	14. The Dream

**Disclaimer: The only thing that's mine is the plot of the story**

* * *

1997 – March 9

 _Hermione woke up and shivered. The icy air assaulted her bare arms, her face was numb from the cold and she could see her breath in puffs of white cloud in front of her. The ground below her was hard and damp, definitely not her bed. Her heart began to race as her confused mind began to work out the new scenery._

 _Where was she? Hermione looked around, discovering that she was lying on the ground outside among the trees. Something wasn't right. Something was terribly wrong. She remembered going to sleep in her bed that night and there was no reason why she should be out of the cabin. She recognized the area from her walk with Draco, but somehow, it was very different. It was dark, shadows stretching to cover the ground. And the cold, it was so cold. What in world was she doing? Why was she outside? Had she walked in her sleep? Hermione was alone, outside, in the dark, and she was very afraid. She didn't think she had ever felt so alone before. It was almost as if any light within her had been sucked out, leaving a hole of never ending dread and loneliness._

 _She was alone._

 _She was alone, but she could feel a presence; a dark and evil presence._

 _Somehow, she knew that there was no one around to help her._

 _Hermione shakily stood up. She had to find cover, she had to get back to the cabin. Draco was there. He would know what was going on._

 _Terrified and confused, Hermione began to make her way back towards the cabin, folding her arms across her chest to try to keep warm against the freezing air. Everything was completely still, no movement from wind, no animals in the trees or bushes. The feeling of dread began to escalate inside of her as she got closer to the cabin. It was as if a hush had fallen over the woods, like everything, even the trees themselves, were too petrified to move. Hermione's heart thudded ever quicker as she put one foot in front of the other, slowly making her way through the trees, her bare feet numb against the frosty ground as she walked._

 _In the distance she made out a figure slumped against a tree. Was it a person? They seemed injured._

 _Was it Draco? What was going on?_

 _Hermione rushed towards the unidentified person, sprinting forwards as she saw who it was. It wasn't Draco, but Ron. Panic flooded her and her eyes misted as she fell to her knees beside him._

 _"Ron!" she screamed. Before she even touched his cold hand, she knew he was dead. "Ron!" she cried again tears streaming from her eyes._

 _His eyes were open, but unseeing and a small trickle of blood left a stain from the corner of his mouth._

 _How did he even find her there? Why would he come alone?_

 _Then, terror struck her. He wouldn't have. Harry must be there somewhere as well. Whipping her head around, Hermione tried to see any clue as to where he might have gone._

 _Hermione's eyes fell on another body, lying on the ground farther away, towards the cabin. She got up and ran, holding her arms over her stomach as if to hold it in place as the grief she was experiencing threatened to rip it apart._

 _"Harry!" she shrieked. He was sprawled across the ground, laying in a pool of blood released from a gaping wound in his chest. With her vision blurred she collapsed beside him, sobbing. "Why did you come!?" she yelled. "Why did you try to find me!?"_

 _Hermione heard footsteps behind her and felt that dark presence lurking closer. Slowly, she turned, already knowing who it was._

 _Red eyes glared down at her and Hermione's blood ran cold._

 _"This was fun," Voldemort sneered, raising his wand to her._

Hermione woke up panting, tears running down her face. It was just a dream. It was just a dream but it felt so real. Her heart was racing and she couldn't stop her sobbing.

It was only a dream. It was only a dream. It was only a dream. Hermione repeated the words in her head over and over.

The door burst open and Draco was suddenly beside her.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked quickly.

"It was just a nightmare," she said, trying to make herself believe it as well. Her brain knew it was a dream, but for some reason, something deep inside told her it was more than that.

Draco seemed awkward, as if he didn't know what he was supposed to do. Hermione took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down.

"What. . . what can I do?" he asked.

"Stay with me," she answered quietly. The thought of being alone terrified her.

Seemingly unsure about his actions, Draco sat down on the bed beside Hermione and timidly wrapped an arm around her. Hermione didn't know how much she needed human contact until he initiated it. She curled into his embrace, letting the sound of his heartbeat sooth her fried nerves.

"Do you . . .um. . .want to talk about it?" he asked awkwardly.

"It felt so real. . . like it was actually happening." She took another deep breath and wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. "I woke up outside the cabin on the ground and Ron and Harry . . . they had found this place and . . . Voldemort was there and . . . and . . . he killed them." Hermione tried to tell him.

"Well, it didn't happen," Draco told her, holding her tighter.

It did feel slightly less terrifying when she talked about it, especially being in a familiar place with someone she trusted.

She trusted him. It was too taxing to analyze the discovery at the moment, but she tucked it away in her mind to think about later. Right now, she had much more pressing matters at the front of her mind.

There was a nagging feeling that wouldn't let her heart slow down it's pace. It felt too real, even the coldness of the air still clung to her skin, and the emotion, the feelings of utter despair and grief were still smothering her.

"There was this awful feeling of just… darkness. I felt so alone, like there was nothing but evil left around me." She paused. "When he owls back, can you ask Dumbledore if they're alright? If Harry and Ron are okay?" Hermione asked.

"Alright. I can do that," he told her.

"Just . . . don't leave," she said. Even at the thought of him leaving her alone, fear consumed her. She could have sworn Voldemort had been standing right behind her, that he was the reason for her odd feelings of helplessness. She didn't feel safe alone; at least not tonight.

"I won't," Draco assured her.

* * *

Draco had a bad feeling about Hermione's dream. Sure, nightmares were normal, but the way she had described it sent shivers down his spine. He had felt those same feelings himself, the sensation of dark magic as it emanated from the Dark Lord, the feeling of emptiness, of all consuming darkness.

He had assured her that it had only been a dream, and surely it had been, but that the Dark Lord didn't have anything to do with it was another question. Draco wasn't exactly sure how the Dark Lord would have been able to enter her mind being so far away, but he was an extremely powerful legilimens so it wouldn't completely surprise him. And that was a terrifying thought.

Draco had just received an owl back from Dumbledore and walked out to the sofa where Hermione was curled up with a blanket.

"Is that it?" she asked gesturing with her eyes to the parchment he held.

Draco nodded, sitting down next to her and unfolding the letter.

 _Draco,_

 _I am pleased that you decided to ask for my help._

 _It shows much courage to reach out to the opposing_

 _side in a war and I am proud of you for doing so._

 _Hermione's death has been very difficult on many_

 _here and to hear of her living is very pleasing to say_

 _the least. However, I suggest that you stay where_

 _you are for now. Any movement in location could expose_

 _the fact that Hermione is alive. Please send me your location_

 _should the worst occur so we may protect you and_

 _Hermione. Do not sell yourself short Draco. You are_

 _worth more than you know, and who you have become_

 _is not entirely the fault of your own. That you have_

 _reached out is encouraging. I am very pleased that_

 _your conscience and light may have won out against_

 _the darkness surrounding you as I had hoped it would._

 _Never lose faith._

 _Dumbledore_

Draco silently finished reading the note, hands trembling. The headmaster had predicted that his conscience would overcome the darkness into which he had been thrown? Did he think Draco could escape the punishment for his actions? Surely not. But still, Dumbledore had said that he was worth protecting along with Hermione.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked sounding slightly impatient.

"He says we should stay where we are and tell him our location so that he can protect us," Draco summarized.

"That's good, isn't it? Why do you look so surprised?"

"No reason," he replied.

"You didn't think Dumbledore would really help?" she questioned.

Draco just shrugged. "Should I tell him where we are?"

"Yes. And ask him about how Harry and Ron are," she reminded him.

He was also going to tell Dumbledore about the nightmare she had. Draco hoped it was nothing, that he was just being paranoid, but he didn't want to run the risk that something might happen to her. If it was the Dark Lord somehow entering her mind from afar, they needed to find some way to stop it very quickly.

"Alright," he agreed. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," she told him, though her eyes said differently. They told him the same thing that all the Dark Lord's victims did; fear.

"You aren't alright," he disagreed.

"I just want to know that Harry and Ron are alright, and that they aren't trying to find me, or doing anything stupid. They tend not to use their heads when it comes to people they care about."

"I've noticed," he replied, wishing he could do more. Without her, who knew what those boys would get up to. "I'll ask."

* * *

Draco had been right. Hermione was _not_ as fine as she had said she was. That dream was still shaking her up inside, terrifying her at the memory, making her absolutely paranoid that as soon as Draco left, Voldemort himself would take his place.

Hermione had had nightmares before, but somehow, this one felt different. She _had_ to know that Harry and Ron were alright.

Hermione was very thankful that Draco never left her side for more than a few minutes. She couldn't even _imagine_ being alone right now. Her brain was all muddled and she couldn't quite think right. The way she had felt in that dream, she had never felt that way before, and the fact that Draco's eyes grew slightly wider when she went into more detail about the dream, made her think it could have been a bigger deal than he was making it out to be. She desperately wanted to know what it was, what he was recognizing from her description. What was happening to her?

Hermione kept telling herself that there was nothing wrong with having a nightmare, nightmares were normal. Even the happiest, most peaceful people experienced them once in a while. But every time she thought of that dark forest, it sent chills shooting through her and that sense of dread began to rise.

No, she couldn't keep thinking about it like that. She needed to think of more positive things.

That Dumbledore had gotten back to them about their situation was certainly encouraging. She couldn't believe Draco was so shocked that Dumbledore would help them. There was never any doubt in Hermione's mind that he would. Now, she should be able to relax a little bit, knowing that Dumbledore was involved. They would get out of this alright.

Hermione was still curled up on the sofa when Draco got back from sending the letter.

She couldn't be moping around like this! It wasn't as if her friends had actually been killed or if some terrible thing were happening. It was a _dream_ for goodness sake. Even if it _felt_ as though it were something more, it did _not_ truly happen, that, she knew. She should be moving on with her day. Hermione couldn't let this effect her like it was.

"Draco," she started, as he sat down beside her again. "Are we still having our do-over date today?"

"If you still want to," he replied.

"I do. And I think it would be good to get my mind off things. What were you thinking of? We are pretty limited, having to stay here and all. I mean, this is kind of nice too, just sitting here, but I would much rather be doing something. Maybe we could play a game, or . . . well, I would suggest watching a movie, but I don't believe you have a television."

Draco smiled. "So what, did you just decide to go back to normal?" he asked.

"Pretty much," she replied, nodding.

"Well, what I was thinking probably wouldn't be a good idea anymore, considering last night," he told her.

"And what were you thinking?" she asked curiously.

Draco sighed. "I wanted to take you outside for a picnic under a warming spell."

Hermione thought about that. Outside meant going out into the setting of her horrible dream. On the other hand, it was daytime and Draco would be there, and it would show her for certain that it didn't happen.

"Actually," she started. "I don't think that is such a terrible idea. Maybe it would help me to get over the dream."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "Yes. It was only a dream and it is silly of me to avoid going outside because of it."

"Alright then," Draco agreed.

* * *

The time came for Hermione to face her dream and leave the safety of the cabin.

"Are you absolutely certain that you want to do this? I won't be offended if you back out," Draco told her, standing at her side by the door.

"I'm not going to back out," she stated defiantly.

Draco nodded and opened the door for her.

The sight was nothing like the darkness of the nightmare. The snow had melted and the sun was out, sending golden streams of light through the leaves of the trees to form beautiful patterns on the ground. Not only that, but the woods were full of sound and life. She could hear the scurrying of little creatures, rustling their way through the branches and bushes and the trees swayed just a small bit due to the light breeze. Surely without the magic it would have been quite cold, but now she felt warm, and at peace.

On the ground between two trees was a large picnic blanket with enough food for the both of them. Draco lead her over to the blanket and they sat down together. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking concerned.

Hermione smiled. "Yes. I am absolutely fine. This is nothing like my dream. It's beautiful," she told him.

"Good, I'll try not to ruin it this time," he said, to which Hermione laughed a bit and shook her head.

If only she had known _this_ Draco Malfoy in school. Hermione knew that he had _had_ to put on a cruel façade and that she had many a time been on the receiving end of that cruelty. Things would have hurt a lot less if she had understood what was going on. Draco Malfoy had a heart that he had to hide from the rest of the world. He acted like the tough, hardened, school bully, pureblood, Death Eater, when in reality, he was just a boy questioning the things his parents taught him and who they wanted him to be. He was a boy who needed someone with whom he could be himself around, who wouldn't judge him for wanting something different for his life than darkness and death.

 _You trust him._

The thought flooded through her and wouldn't let go. Hermione trusted Draco Malfoy, the rival and enemy. But he wasn't an enemy. Not anymore. And from the sound of it, he hadn't been for a while. And she _did_ trust him, she felt _safe_ with him. It was an insane discovery considering everything that had happened, but it was undeniable. After the nightmare, the only time her fear didn't completely paralyze her was when Draco was around. Hermione realized he was the only part of her reasoning for being outside at that moment that could have possibly allowed her to go through with it. Because he would be there with her.

He was watching her, not even touching the obviously handmade sandwich in front of him. She couldn't help but smile at the expression of concern and slight uncertainty he was sending her. She would have never believed, even a month ago, that Draco Malfoy could be sweet and thoughtful, but here he was.

"It surprises me that you cook as a muggle would," she pointed out to start a conversation, taking a bite of her sandwich.

It was a bit ironic; the pureblood choosing to cook without magic. She liked that he did, but was curious to know why.

Draco shrugged. "When I first got the place I used magic, but I found that using my hands is more of a stress reliever. It's relaxing."

"How did you learn?" she asked.

"I knew I could do a couple things by hand and I went to a store and got some books that showed me how to do more."

"You went to the store. A _muggle_ store?" Hermione was shocked. If anyone in his circle found out, she didn't even want to think about what would happen.

"Yes. It was very strange and people kept looking at me oddly. I guess I didn't know a lot of things that any normal muggle would have," he said, seeming slightly embarrassed.

"I think that's really great," Hermione told him. "That you went to a muggle store. I would expect it was strange because you were never taught about common muggle things like that. It was strange for me when I first went to a wizard store in Diagon Alley. I wasn't taught about this world so I didn't know a lot of things that anyone raised as a witch or wizard would," she explained.

"That was how it felt for you entering the wizard world?" he asked.

"Somewhat. It was probably a bit different for you because I didn't grow up hearing about how horrible witches and wizards were, just that they didn't really exist."

"I guess I did go in with some different expectations," he agreed.

Hermione really wanted to know when his view of muggles and muggle-borns began to change, but based on the previous night, that was not a good question to ask.

"So, um, what was something fun you used to do as a child?" she asked putting the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth and reaching for the glass of water.

"I had a toy broom that I loved. I had a lot of toys and books, and pretty much everything a kid could want. I was a spoiled child, came to Hogwarts with the belief that I could get anything I wanted just because I was a Malfoy. But that toy broom; it was my favorite thing as a kid," he explained, smiling fondly at the memory.

Yes, Hermione did remember the spoiled rotten Draco Malfoy whose key line to everything in life was threatening to tell his father. Now, that threat would scare her, but back then, it was just plain annoying.

"What did you do as a child?" he asked.

"Well, we would go to the zoo as a family for my birthday. I _loved_ it. I looked forward to the trip every year. That is, until I got older and realized that a zoo was practically a prison for the animals." Draco laughed. "What?" she asked.

"I can see that. Little Hermione Granger loves the zoo for years, then all of a sudden has the desire to free all the animals. You did that at Hogwarts as well. I remember your little club thing. As soon as you heard what a house elf was, you just _had_ save them," he explained.

Hermione elbowed him in the side. "It was called S.P.E.W. and house elves deserve to be treated better than slaves."

"There's your problem right there. You care too much," Draco told her.

"I don't think anyone could care _too_ much," she said.

Draco laughed again and Hermione liked how carefree he sounded for once. "I think you care more than any other person I know."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she replied.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hey! Got another chapter up! I was having some troubles ending it properly, so I hope it doesn't seem to cut out of the scene and end too quickly. I was kind of disappointed by the lack of reviews last week. I ended up having a bit more time to edit this week than expected, which was nice, but I kept checking back to see if anyone else had reviewed and being sad to find no one had**

 **Thank you so much to the two people who did review: bennettfan84 and SereniteRose. I couldn't imagine not getting any reviews at this point in the story so I really appreciated your thoughts.**

 **The rest of you! If you appreciate the work that I am putting into this story, let me know! It means so much to me and really only takes a few seconds of your time. If you can't think of anything to say, just a little encouragement would be amazing. In this final month of the semester, things are going to keep getting crazier and crazier and if I don't get reviews, I may not be able to update as often.**

 **The story is really getting going in the next few chapters so you will want to be able to read them ;)**

 **Thanks for reading, favoriting/following and have a great week!**


	15. The Letter

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except the plot**

* * *

1997 – March 14

It had been four nights since the first nightmare. Four nights without hearing from Dumbledore. Four nights filled with utter terror. Each sleep came with a new horrifying pseudo reality. Something was wrong; very wrong. It felt as though her mind was being explored during the night, as if someone were searching for something or simply exposing her worst fears, but it was now obvious that Draco was hiding the truth about the severity of the situation.

It could have been nothing if there had been a trigger. It could have been nothing if they didn't reoccur so consistently. It could have been nothing if the nightmares didn't feel so real, as if she had actually been transported into the horror, filling every sense with fear. This was not nothing, and as much as Hermione wanted to believe she was just being paranoid, she knew better. She knew that a powerful wizard was hunting her, wanting her dead. She knew that this was possible. Every time she woke up screaming, she could see it in Draco's eyes as he came to her side and tried to comfort her; this was bad.

They hadn't heard back from Dumbledore yet and Hermione hated that she had begun to doubt. The situation was urgent and he was ignoring them!

But she knew better. Her brain said that the headmaster would never ignore or abandon a student in need. There must be another explanation.

She was still anxious about knowing that her friends were alright, because most of her fears that she was forced to face surrounded them being hurt or killed. To watch them be murdered over and over again in her dreams and not be able to see them when she woke created a horrible cycle of fear.

She knew that Dumbledore had been traveling lately and giving Harry lessons about how to defeat Voldemort, so if he wasn't getting back to them quickly, she had to take it to mean that some very important development had been made in the quest to destroy the dark wizard. Dumbledore would not leave them in the dark without a good cause. Or at least that was what Hermione told herself.

But waiting was torture in itself. Hermione was terrified, even to go to sleep at night. She dreaded the realistic horrors that played out in her mind, pried from the darkest corners of her thoughts. One thing that was strangely consistent though, was the setting of the dreams. Each nightmare had something to do with either the cabin itself or the woods surrounding it. It frightened her to think that there was a point to it all.

Hermione didn't know what it meant, but Draco had become a part of her nightmare that previous night. If her dreams were preying on her worst fears, which included the death of someone she loved, what did it mean that Draco had taken on that role? She was increasingly confused by the care he had been showing her and her own feelings. Every night she woke up from a nightmare, he was there within minutes. Even the simplicity of his presence calmed her adrenaline filled heart and made her feel safe. Though, she couldn't seem to dwell on these thoughts as it took such energy.

Her terrors at night had begun to affect Hermione during the day. She was constantly paranoid, and jumped at even the slightest noise, not to mention the fact that she hadn't gotten a whole lot of sleep over the past few days. Dark circles had already made their mark under Hermione's eyes and even though she was so exhausted, she feared the thought of going to sleep.

 _Tap, tap, tap._

At the sound, she almost tossed her book in the air.

"Its just an owl," Draco assured her, standing up from the sofa where they were sitting to let the bird inside. Hermione took a deep breath in an attempt to reduce the amount of adrenaline that had just been pumped into her system.

He untied the note from the owl's leg. "It's from Dumbledore," he told her, sitting back down.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked.

She had to have confidence that the headmaster would be able to help them and was very anxious to make sure Harry and Ron were alright. Hermione was slightly annoyed when she saw that Draco was reading the letter first before telling her. She had already watched her friends die more than once and had been terribly afraid for their safety ever since the first nightmare. Why did _he_ have the right to read it first?!

Why was she thinking like this? It wasn't something she would normally get upset over. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep.

Draco handed the her the piece of parchment.

 _Draco and Hermione,_

 _My dear students, I do not wish to frighten you more than you must already be,  
_ _but there is a possibility of dark magic being involved in the nightmare you have  
told me about. If the dream has only occurred the once then there is little need to  
worry. If it is occurring more frequently, I fear it is a much more serious matter.  
There are rumors of Voldemort experimenting with a powerful form of legilimency,  
reaching one's thoughts through the form of dreams. Though these are merely rumors,  
I implore you to be prepared. I apologize that I have not been able to respond quicker.  
The boys are doing fine. The death of a close friend has been very hard on the both  
of them, but if anything, it has made them more dedicated to their work. We are  
moving along in our lessons much quicker than I had expected. It may be of some  
encouragement to know that the end is near. I will be sending members of the order  
to you so that you may have protection._

 _Keep alight with hope._

 _Dumbledore._

Hermione felt as though she couldn't breathe, like her chest was being weighed down by a thousand pounds and she had just been thrown into the deepest part of the ocean. Her eyes were wide as she read and reread Dumbledore's words. There was a likely chance that Voldemort was planting those images in her mind at night. What did all this mean? Was he really there, inside her mind, when she saw him in her dreams? Why would he be doing something like this?

This meant he knew she was alive. That, in itself was a horrifying thought. But why was he trying to enter her mind like this? Was he trying to learn their location? Why would he make such a big deal about finding them? Was it just because it was fun to torment a muggle-born this way? No, something bigger had to be going on here. Something bigger than just her, or even just her and Draco. For Voldemort himself to be involved and experimenting with new magic, this must be huge.

Dumbledore knew though, and that was a relief. Surely he would know a way to stop this, or at least figure one out. And she was very relieved that her friends were alright.

Draco had written Dumbledore about even that first nightmare. He had apparently been much more worried than he had let on. She looked over at him.

 _He was worried about you_.

"What is he talking about?" Draco asked, looking at her through concerned eyes. "About his lessons moving along quicker than he had expected?"

 _That_ was the part he wished to discuss? Did he so expect the first discovery that it was overlooked?

"He is giving Harry lessons," she answered vaguely, still in shock about the initial part of the letter.

"Yeah, I got that part. I meant, what for?" he clarified.

Hermione sighed. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone about their lessons. But Dumbledore had brought it up in a letter addressed to them both. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't trust Draco with the knowledge. But still, she didn't like going against the headmaster's orders without absolute certainty. Was it important for Draco to know? Could he help with their knowledge?

She bit her bottom lip nervously, unsure of what to say.

"Learning how to defeat Voldemort," she decided. It didn't give too much away; she could still keep her word to Harry and Dumbledore, but she could also let Draco know a small bit.

He flinched at the use of the Voldemort's name.

"That's good . . . I guess," he said, looking down at his hands.

Did he think she didn't trust him enough to tell him more?

"It's not that I don't trust you," she began to clarify. "It's just that Dumbledore said we were not to talk about it with anyone else. I don't know all that much about it myself anymore. It sounds like they have had some sort of success . . . with something. I guess I haven't been around for a while."

The two sat in silence, minds going through every word in that letter. The nightmares were more than her own imagination. But they were close to the end of the war. That was a good thing right? That meant that everything would turn out alright, that she didn't have anything to worry about?

But when it came to someone breaking into your mind in your sleep, there was always something to worry about.

"What do we do now?" she asked quietly.

"I . . . I don't know," he replied.

"Well," Hermione started, trying to sound confident. Inside, she was utterly quaking with fear. "Would occlumency work?" she questioned. Maybe he could teach her.

"Not in your sleep, not until you have nearly mastered it," Draco told her solemnly. "I would have to teach you by breaking into your mind and that would leave you even more vulnerable to him."

"Then what do we do?" Hermione whispered, more to herself this time than him.

 _What do we do? What do we do? What do we do? What can we do?_

Hermione searched her mind, sifting through any memory she could find of books she had read or lectures she had attended. Nothing was coming but a flood of frustration. It could have been the panic of the situation, but her memory was failing her in the most desperate of times.

She barely registered the stress etched onto Draco's face, how he aggressively ran his fingers through his hair in a bout of his own frustration. But Hermione did notice when he forcefully pushed away from the sofa and began pacing across the floor.

Hermione found herself wondering what exactly it was that stressed him so. Was it his own safety on the line that he needed to protect? Or was he this worried about her? Past evidence told her the latter was the truth. Somehow, even in the midst of the terror in finding her suspicions were correct, that Voldemort himself was gaining access to her mind, the thought almost made her smile. He was worried about her. And she could see by the fear in his eyes that he cared. She wasn't yet sure of her own feelings, but Hermione could see that Draco Malfoy cared about what happened to her. What a strange thought that was.

"What if we just left, went on the run," she suggested.

"They would find us even more quickly. There are strong wards around this place and no one knows it exists. Well, I guess the Order does now, but I took every precaution. The reason the Dark Lord is trying to enter your mind is to find it and that will take some time and digging considering even you don't know the exact location." Draco paused. "He will find it though. You may not know the exact coordinates but you have seen the surrounding area, you have seen the stars out your window at night, and from your memories, he will find us eventually."

"But if we move around. . ."

"We wouldn't have the protection we have here," Draco interrupted.

Hermione sighed. Draco was convinced that they would be found, but thought that by staying where they were they would buy some more time? She didn't quite understand.

She also didn't understand why Voldemort would enter her mind instead of Draco's. Perhaps, because he would recognize the intrusion, and would be able to block him out? Hermione knew from first hand experience that he could control his emotions incredibly well, but had he mastered occlumency in a way that could block this nightmare invasion?

Then she remembered Dumbledore's final words. He was going to send protection for them. They would be alright. Someone would arrive soon to help them. But it was hard to be relieved when she knew what would continue to haunt her at night.

* * *

Hermione stood beside her bed. She was completely exhausted, yet, she couldn't make herself crawl under the covers. She knew what was coming as soon as she would fall asleep. She knew that Voldemort himself was going to penetrate her mind and there was nothing she could do to stop it. There was nothing in her power to bring the terrors to an end.

So she stood, staring at the comfortable pillow, longing to rest her head upon it, but utterly afraid of the consequences of such an action. With sleep came paralyzing fear, the witnessing of horrific events, and the knowledge of the plot behind the experience made it all the more terrifying.

But she needed sleep. Her entire body cried out with fatigue, an unshakable heaviness, a necessity that begged for fulfillment.

Hermione couldn't make herself do it. She felt as though, by climbing into the bed and by falling asleep, she was _allowing_ Voldemort to roam her thoughts, _giving_ him access to her mind. She felt afraid and unsafe.

What was the one thing that gave her a feeling of safety? What was it that pulled her back to reality after a horrid nightmare? Not an it, but a who.

 _Draco._

She knew that having him beside her was the only way her tired body was going to get any rest. And maybe, it wouldn't be so terrifying waking up from the dream if she wasn't alone.

What was she _thinking_? She couldn't just ask him to stay the night with her!

 _He would do it._

Hermione knew instinctively, after watching him that past day, that he would. But was she ready for something like that? It wasn't as if anything more would happen other than sleep, but still, it seemed so intimate, and she couldn't even say what exactly she felt for him yet.

 _But you do feel something._ She may not know what, though she couldn't disagree that she felt _something_.

She trusted him; trusted him enough to be considering asking him to stay with her that night, knowing that he wouldn't take advantage of her vulnerable situation. She hadn't trusted anyone that much other than Harry and Ron. But it was more than that. Simply the knowledge that he was worried enough to take action about the dream, even after the first one, seeing the stress in his eyes as his fears were confirmed about what was happening to her, just knowing that he cared about her made her heart flutter. And that sounded very cliché and girly, but it was true.

It might have been the exhaustion taking control of her body and her longing for sleep disorienting her thoughts, but her feet had taken on a mind of their own and walked her to her bedroom door.

She took a deep breath before opening the door and marching confidently towards Draco's room.

Hermione got about half-way there before her brain kicked back in.

This was _insane_. This was a _bad_ idea.

She spun on her heel and headed back to her own room.

What was she thinking?! She couldn't just knock on his door and ask him to stay the night with her!

But as soon as she got back to her own door, she froze. She could see the bed through the open doorway and it seemed so frightening, alone in a dark room. She shivered at the thought of even entering the room again.

She squeezed her eyes shut. What was happening to her? She used to be strong and independent, and now, she needed someone with her to even enter her bedroom. Voldemort was doing this and she couldn't stop him.

Hermione turned her head to look down the hall from which she had just come, anxiously chewing her bottom lip.

She needed to sleep. She needed to sleep and in order to do that, she knew she needed someone there with her when she woke from the inevitable nightmare. She had to do this. She needed Draco tonight.

With one more steadying breath, she moved her feet, one in front of the other, until she stood in front of Draco's door.

She looked behind her again. Was she really going to do this?

Yes.

Hermione knocked.

The door opened and a slightly disheveled Draco stood before her.

"Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Yes . . . well . . . no . . . um, I was wondering . . . If you would . . . you see, I'm having a problem . . . with sleep . . . well actually, even entering my room and . . . and you always seem to be able to calm me down . . . I just . . . um . . . now that I know what the nightmares really are. . . I . . . don't want to be alone. . ."

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight? Is that what you're trying to ask?" Draco inquired, cutting off Hermione's awkward rambling.

She turned her eyes toward the ground, not sure if she wanted to she his reaction. What if she had misjudged? She nodded at the floor.

"I will, if that will help you," he told her.

* * *

Had someone suggested this would happen even a few months ago, he would have hexed them.

"Yes . . . well . . . no . . . um, I was wondering . . . If you would . . . you see, I'm having a problem . . . with sleep . . . well actually, even entering my room and . . . and you always seem to be able to calm me down . . . I just . . . um . . . now that I know what the nightmares really are. . . I . . . don't want to be alone. . ."

She was nervous. She was unsure. She was scared. She was asking for his help. She was asking for his company. Draco didn't know how to feel about it.

On the one hand, he was afraid for her; for her safety, for her sanity. And he didn't know what to do. He couldn't protect her from an intrusion into her mind. He had seen the damage the Dark Lord could inflict on a person simply by gaining access to to their thoughts and knowing that Hermione was going through that same psychological torture without being able to do anything about it was killing him inside.

But the fact that she needed him, desired his company, trusted him enough to ask; it was all he had ever dreamed about. Sure, she was awkward, probably uncertain of his response to such a request, and had a hard time asking the actual question, but there was no way he would turn her down. She was giving him something he could do to help her.

"Do you want me to stay with you tonight? Is that what you're trying to ask?" Draco clarified.

Hermione's eyes fell to the floor, seemingly embarrassed. He would take that as confirmation.

"I will, if that will help you," he assured.

Moving to her room, he saw the fear, fatigue, and determination in Hermione's posture as she took a deep breath before entering. She had a right to be terrified of that room, of sleep. Knowing that most likely, the Dark Lord was going to enter her mind again that night, must have been absolutely petrifying.

It was a bit awkward first climbing into the bed, but he was surprised when Hermione curled herself against his chest. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tighter.

Draco tried to remind himself that the only reason she would act this way was because she was scared beyond belief, terrified of what the night would bring and needed someone, anyone, to hold her. But feeling the perfect fit of her body against his, her soft hair pressed under his chin, he desperately hoped it was more than just the fear of the Dark Lord's intrusion leading her to trust him in this way.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hey guys, sorry for the long wait. This is what happens when I don't get enough reviews! You guys are my motivation and when I don't hear from you, it is hard to write. Sorry to SereniteRose, bennettfan84 and Firebolt.1.4.3 who did review. Thank you so much. Unfortunately, I didn't get the chapter done for last week.**

 **But here it is now! I hope it is alright, it is a bit of a filler chapter. I hope the middle section wasn't too scattered! I had a bit of a hard time getting everything to fit together right.**

 **Trust me, you guys are going to want to read the next few chapters (wink, wink).**

 **Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!**


	16. The Dark

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the mastermind**

* * *

1997 – March 21

 _Darkness._

 _It was all around her, all she could see, all she could feel. It spread from the pitch black that surrounded her to the very depths of her soul. There was no light, no sound, no sign that anything else existed where she was. Hermione lifted a hand in front of her face and couldn't even make out the faintest outline of the limb._

 _She was standing; that she could tell. Hermione couldn't make out what she was standing on, only that she was, in fact, on her feet._

 _She felt sick with fear. It was happening again. Her mind was being infiltrated with horrors; horrors that she could not control._

 _She was alone again._

 _There was a deep, black hole of loneliness that made her stomach twist. Where was Draco? He was never there, never there when she was terrified the most. Never there when Voldemort appeared. No one was ever there. Not alive anyway._

 _The unknown world spun. A strange dizziness fogged her mind as though she were drugged or poisoned. She closed her eyes but all she saw was more darkness that never faded, never changed. The spinning got faster and faster until Hermione thought she might collapse. What was happening? Why was this happening?_

 _As suddenly as it began, the spinning stopped and she could see some sort of light in the distance. It wasn't a light necessarily but a dull shape, blurry around the edges and difficult to make out. Slowly, it came into focus._

 _The cabin._

 _Though she welcomed the sight, the cabin was an eerie one to say the least. She was supposed to go to it, Hermione knew. She felt the strange, almost magnetic pull towards the place. It was as if she couldn't even draw her eyes away, they were held firmly in place. She lifted a foot and began the slow journey towards the cabin._

 _It was a strange sight. The cabin sat alone, no trees surrounding it, no ground supporting it; it sat on whatever it was Hermione was walking on. She couldn't quite tell what it was, but it was not the ground. But that didn't really matter._

 _The cabin was lighted, as if by a spotlight above it, but no such light existed. It was simply there, and she was simply here, moving towards there. It was almost as if she were being controlled. She couldn't slow down her movements, nor speed them up._

 _A loud shriek filled her ears and flooded her heart with terror._

 _Draco._

 _The cry was his. Hermione wanted to run, wanted to reach him, for she knew what was coming, what always came; death. She couldn't speed up, couldn't run, couldn't sprint, couldn't shout that she was there, that she was coming. The slow walk continued as Draco screamed in agony again._

 _She needed to stop this! She needed to reach him in time! But she couldn't and she knew she wouldn't._

 _The world was silent as she finally reached the door. It creaked open without Hermione even touching the knob. Tears came to her eyes and her heartbeat ran at an unthinkable pace as she stepped inside._

 _Blood._

 _It spattered everything. Coating the world in red. Hermione searched for the source, seeing nothing but the terrible crimson that at least speckled each and every surface._

 _She felt it again, the eyes trained on her. Hermione slowly turned her head to look behind her, movements deliberate, controlled, as though she could only move how he wanted he to._

 _Voldemort was behind her, staring at her through a disgusted expression on his vile face. She wanted to speak, to scream, to yell what a monster he was, that he had killed Draco, but her terror shunted every breath._

 _Without a word, Voldemort stepped aside to reveal the sickening sight. A body, covered in blood lay crumpled on the floor._

 _Hermione couldn't breathe, air refused to enter her lungs. What she saw were her own unseeing eyes staring up at her with Draco crying at her side._

Hermione woke and immediately found herself being pulled into Draco's embrace and cried against his chest. The terrifying image of her own mutilated body still flashed through her mind. Voldemort was relentless in is invasions. She hadn't had even one night of rest, one night without waking up terrified.

Draco held her tightly as she sobbed, stroking her back, whispering to her promises that she knew he couldn't keep. Everything was not alright, it was not going to be alright. Any day now, they could be found. Any day, they could be surrounded by Death Eaters eager to hear them scream, to watch them die. She didn't know how much longer she could go on like this and each day brought with it a decline in the amount of hope she could muster up. She was so tired, so scared, so paranoid, and it made her think; would dying really be such a horrible fate? Hermione chided herself for even considering the possibility that death could be a mercy.

It did help somewhat, having Draco there when she woke from the nightmares. She wasn't alone, she knew that someone was there to protect her, even if she couldn't' feel it in her sleep.

"Someone will be here soon," he assured her, continuing to rub one hand across her back. "Dumbledore said the end of this war was close. It will only be a bit longer."

Hermione wasn't quite as confident, and she didn't really think even he believed the words he was saying. It had been a week since they had received the owl from Dumbledore. A week since he had promised the end, promised the protection of the Order. Something must have happened and Hermione hated the explanations her mind came up with. Were Harry and Ron alright? What about the others in the Order? What had happened to prevent them from coming?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to stop the flood of tears. She had to stay positive. Was there a good side to any of this? At first thought, the answer was no, definitely not. There couldn't possibly be any way to look at weeks of nightly terrors, a dark wizard forcing his way into her mind, no sleep, and the very real possibility of a horrible death, in a positive way. Searching deeper for any sort of light, Hermione thought of the man holding her tightly at that very moment. He had been constantly by her side, not leaving her alone for more than a few minutes at a time. As soon as he would leave, the flood of loneliness and feelings of hopelessness seeped back. So he stayed.

During that week, Hermione had gotten to see how sweet Draco Malfoy could be. He was such a comfort when she felt this overwhelming lack of control. She knew it must be difficult for him as well, simply waiting for something to happen and not being able to do anything.

Hermione didn't want to face the world, face the day of nothing but fear. So she stayed, curled up against Draco's chest. The tears had ceased, but she continued to breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of him that seemed so calming. She focused on the sensations of the warmth of his body seeping into hers and the tight squeeze of his embrace emitting a feeling of protection, a feeling of safety.

She wished they could stay like that forever; together, safe, coaxing the nightmare into the past. But the nightmare wasn't in the past, and they couldn't live their life, or whatever life they had left, in that bed.

Hermione's stomach voiced its hunger, forcing them to face reality.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and found a dim light filtering through the window.

"It's nearly morning," she whispered.

"I'll make you some breakfast," Draco replied, letting his arms slip from around her.

Immediately, Hermione felt a chill sweep through her. She closed her eyes again took a few more steadying breaths, wrapping her own arms around her body. She always needed a bit of time to get used to surviving on her own again.

When she was ready, she got dressed into her day robes and went to the kitchen to find Draco.

* * *

Draco stood at the stove, making breakfast as he always had, but recently, even that simple action had been changing. With each day that past without hearing anything from Dumbledore took with it a bit of hope.

Dumbledore had promised protection, and it never came. He had promised the end of this war, and yet, it continued. The constant wondering if today was the the day they would be found, if that would be the last breakfast he would ever make, the last morning they woke up, it was becoming debilitating. Seeing the suffering Hermione was going through, holding her as she cried each time she woke from the nightmares sent by the Dark Lord, and not being able to do anything to stop it was making his blood boil with anger towards the world, towards the headmaster.

Hearing the chair slide against the floor, he was on immediate alert, whipping his head around, hand brushing against his wand, ready to pull it out if need be.

"It's only me."

Draco sighed. He was constantly on edge and not getting nearly as much sleep as he should, but when he looked at Hermione, none of that mattered. She seemed empty, defeated. She had lost that glimmer of hope that had always been present, that light of joy in her eyes. Draco would give anything to see her smile again.

The Dark Lord had taken that from her.

He scooped the eggs onto two plates and set them on the table, sitting down beside her, mind continuing to spin through possibilities.

If this was their last day, Hermione deserved to live it happy, she deserved to smile, she deserved so much more than the fate she had been dealt. If this was their last day, they needed to stop dwelling on what they couldn't change and focus on the present. They couldn't change the fact that the Dark Lord was getting into Hermione's head at night. They couldn't change the fact that, whether today, or maybe tomorrow, or who knew how long, the Dark Lord would find what he was searching for and come for them. The one thing they had control of was what they did with their life right then.

Draco didn't know where the thought had come from, but it alighted something within him. Each day did not have to be a torturous event, the Dark Lord didn't have to take their hope and joy and sanity like he had done with so many other victims.

No, he would not let that evil thing take this from them.

Instead of the anger that had been building inside of him for the past several days, the thought brought inspiration, a goal, a purpose. The start of the day that had seemed so impossibly evil and dreary had a purpose that involved making Hermione happy.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked.

Draco looked at her.

"Taking back something the Dark Lord has stolen from us," he vaguely replied.

Hermione seemed confused "What are you talking about?"

Without responding, Draco stuffed the last bite of breakfast into his mouth and acted on the first thought that came to mind when he asked himself what had made her smile in the past.

That _stereo_ thing. The thing that played music that he had right in the storage closet. She seemed to like it on their first date, maybe she would like it again.

He pushed his chair away from the table and rushed over to where it was kept.

"Where. . . where are you going?" he heard Hermione ask.

He hated to hear the hint of fear in her voice at his sudden disappearance, but was filled with giddy anticipation thinking about the possibilities of the day.

Grabbing the stereo, he hurried back to the kitchen to find Hermione standing, staring at the place he had gone.

"I don't understand," she said.

"Make it play," Draco told her, handing her the machine.

"Alright?" she replied questioningly.

Hermione pressed a few buttons, waved her wand over it, and set it on the counter.

 _Now what_?

Draco stood there, frozen. Had he thought that just putting on some music would make her forget everything and suddenly be happy? What was he thinking? This was stupid. A stupid goal, a stupid thought. A bit of music wasn't going to fix anything.

What do people do with music?

 _Dance_.

Dance? Would she even like that? What if she had some traumatic experience with dancing and would hate him forever if he asked. What if she just didn't want to dance with him. That was ridiculous. She had been sleeping in his arms for the past week; surely she wouldn't have a problem with dancing with him. But what if she just didn't like to dance? Sure, she danced at the Yule ball, but what if she had absolutely hated it and couldn't wait to get out of there?

 _What did you see that day?_

Draco thought back. She was beautiful, stunning. And what had made her so stunning was the smile on her face. That smile. The gorgeous, earth shattering, life changing smile. The smile that he couldn't wait another second to see again.

He took a deep breath. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to ask her to dance, in the middle of the kitchen, with a little stereo playing? It was the most cliché thing he could have possibly thought up. But now the music was playing and he was just standing there as though she had hit him with petrificus totalus and she was staring at him like he was an idiot.

Before he could think it through any more, he asked.

"Would. . . Now, I know this might seem quite cliché . . . but would you dance with me?"

He had finally made out the words so difficult to say when he saw, just the smallest smile twitch at the corners of her mouth.

"You want to dance with me? What does this have to do with taking back what was stolen from us?" she asked, remembering their previous conversation.

"The Dark Lord has stolen the joy, the light, the enjoyment of the small things. We may not have much time left and there isn't a whole lot we can do about that. But this, this we have a choice in." He immediately regretted telling her. What if she thought it was silly and that they should be worrying and trying to find any possible solution to their predicament.

She sighed and was quiet, making Draco wonder if she was ever going to answer, making him feel more embarrassed each second that passed.

"It kind of seems like a ridiculous time, don't you think? Our worlds could end, maybe we're supposed be anxious about what comes next. It is first thing in the morning but it feels as though it is the middle of the night, we're teenagers stuck in the center of a war, and with everything that's going on, you want to do a little thing like dancing?" Draco held his breath. "You're right. It's been a long time now. I think we can assume that nobody is coming and that there is a good chance we won't be around much longer. We shouldn't spend what little time we do have wallowing in what's to come." She took a breath. "So yes. I will dance with you; even if the sun has just come up and we are both completely exhausted. Because, as much as I want to believe there is some point in worrying, I think that every moment we have spent dwelling on what he has put us through is another moment that he wins."

She didn't think he was an idiot, she thought he was right.

Still slightly unsure, Draco held his hand out for her to take and drew her close, wrapping one arm around her waist. She seemed hesitant at first as they swayed gently to the sound of the piano playing through the speakers in the background. But then she let a hand rest over his right shoulder and pulled herself closer.

"Thank you," she whispered.

* * *

Every day since the start of the nightmares, Hermione had been afraid. She had been afraid, exhausted, and obsessed over when they would be found. But now, the only thing that filled her thoughts was Draco, the building tempo of the music, and her feet somehow moving across the floor.

They were going to die.

They were going to die soon.

But they were going to die together.

There was no point in worrying any longer. They had these last moments to spend together, and Hermione was so grateful that Draco had the courage to voice his thoughts. He was right, and now, instead of being afraid, they were dancing across the kitchen floor.

She laughed as Draco twirled her. Coming back to face him, she smiled and rested her head against his shoulder.

Death could wait. Right now, they were dancing.

 _Later that night_

It had been a wonderful day. Hermione hadn't smiled like that in such a long time. Draco had barely given her time to think – which may have been his point – between the dancing, the walk in the sun, the game of chess where they both performed horribly because of lack of sleep. But the day had been filled with laughing and a joy that had been sadly lost recently. It was back, and she wasn't about to let any Dark Lord take it from her again.

She took a deep breath, relaxing under the blanket against Draco's chest.

Nothing could ruin this day; not Voldemort, not . . .

"Someone's here," Draco alerted.

"What?" She sat up, forgetting the blanket that slid to the floor and stared at him.

"Someone tried to get through the wards. I felt it," he told her.

"Is it them? Can you tell how many? Is it the Order?" Hermione's mind was working overtime again, winding through every possible intruder.

"Slow down," Draco said. "I don't know."

He pushed himself off the sofa and headed towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hermione demanded.

"I'm going to go check. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe someone just got lost." He didn't seem to believe his own words.

"I'm coming with you," she decided, grabbing her wand and moving to where he was standing.

"No. You're not. You are staying here. Where it's safe."

"Don't you tell me to stay here! I can fight if need be. I am good with a wand!" Hermione told him, getting frustrated.

"You may be good with a wand Hermione, but you are not in any condition to fight right now – "

"Then neither are you! It isn't as though you have been getting much more sleep than I have!" she interrupted.

"Well, one of us needs to go out there and see who it is. And that person is me!"

"Why couldn't it be me?"

"Because. . . please, just let me do this." Draco was genuinely pleading with her to let him risk his life. Why would he do that?

"If it is them, we'll both die rather quickly anyways, why can't we just die together if that is the case?" she asked quietly.

Draco sighed and rested a hand on her shoulder, sliding it to her wrist, taking her hand in his.

"Hermione. If we are caught together, it would be much worse for you. They'll do horrible things to you, simply to hurt me. Please. Stay here."

Hermione's heart was pounding. As much as she didn't want him to face whoever it was who was attempting to breach the wards alone, his eyes begged her to listen.

"Fine," she whispered. "Just . . . please be careful."

Draco nodded and his hand slipped from her fingers as he left the cabin.

This could not be happening. Not now. Hermione had thought that she had accepted their fate that day. She knew it was coming, but the possibility that it was already there shook her.

Trembling, she moved to the window, watching with anxious anticipation as Draco walked away from the cabin. She watched until his image was swallowed by the darkness of the forest.

Hermione stiffly sat back down on the sofa, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing both hands to her face.

What if that was the last time she saw him? The thought made her heart ache.

No. Draco was a good fighter, even if he hadn't been getting very much sleep. He knew the people who would be coming after them, knew their styles, knew their tells. He could get out of this. They both could.

She sighed in frustration. Who was she kidding? There was no way they would get out of this!

Hermione felt hot tears threaten to fall. It had been such an incredible day and she could hold onto that. She could hold onto the dancing and laughing. She let her mind drift away from the present and back to the horrible chess game. Each terrible move sent another round of giggles through the two of them. She couldn't remember seeing Draco ever laugh like that before; head thrown back, tears of laughter.

She found herself smiling at the memory. Smiling, in the face of death.

The door opened and she was immediately ripped from her thoughts. Her eyes went wide as she braced herself for what could be coming, adrenaline pouring through her system as her body prepared itself to fight.

Then she saw who had entered the cabin.

Draco. That would have relieved her if not for the cloaked figure by his side.

Draco rushed to her, but she couldn't take her eyes off the unidentified stranger. "Hermione, it's alright," he assured her. "He says he's here to help."

The stranger slowly reached his hands up and lifted the hood that covered most of his face.

"Professor?"

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **Knock, knock, hello? Is anyone there? I think I may be posting for only one person. *sniff sniff* Anyway, I guess it's just you bennettfan84. Thanks for sticking with me and reviewing and I do apologize for taking an extra week to get the chapter finished again. I did not have a whole lot of motivation, and ended up getting sick, had papers to finish, and kept checking back for reviews to find only yours. Made me kind of sad, but I really do appreciate you reviewing!**

 **This next week is finals week so I may not get the next chapter done for Sunday. It is a really good one so I want to make it as well done as possible for you!**

 **I hope this chapter was alright. I had a really difficult time with the dance scene, I hope it didn't seem too rushed or out of place, I felt like they had to have at least one more good day before craziness ensues (wink wink). So let me know what you think, or if there is any way I can improve it.**

 **For anyone who happens to be reading this far, this week is going to be absolute hell so I would really love some reviews to keep my spirits up! Maybe for study break I can get in some writing! It is a nice way to get my mind off school for a few minutes.**

 **Happy Easter and I hope you will have a much better week than I will be having!**


	17. The Professor

**Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to the wonderful JK Rowling**

* * *

1997 – March 21

"Professor?" Hermione asked.

Anger rose within her. How _dare_ he show up at the cabin alone! After what he put Draco through? Why was _he_ the one Dumbledore sent? After all this time of not hearing anything why did he appear unannounced? Sure the headmaster trusted him, but Harry had been right that something was off with him. Draco had neither confirmed, nor denied the fact, but Hermione had her suspicions that Professor Snape was a Death Eater. And she hated that she had so much evidence to back up those fears. Hermione had always believed her professors to be good, people to look up to and learn from, people to be respected. But now, she didn't know what to believe.

But Draco had brought him to the cabin. Maybe things weren't as black and white as they seemed. Was there more to this than she had been shown?

Still, Hermione felt uneasy about the man. She knew he was excellent at occlumency, so he truly could be hiding anything, he could have hidden his intentions.

She looked at Draco.

Why was he trusting him?

Was Professor Snape not the one who made Draco go with the Death Eaters on that revel? Was he not the one who gave him the choice to kill her?

She swallowed.

Did Draco know what he was doing with this? Surely he wouldn't lead him back unless he _knew_ Professor Snape was telling the truth in saying he wanted to help them.

Draco would not lead someone looking to kill them, back to the cabin unless . . .

He wasn't Draco.

Hermione's eyes went wide a she looked between the two men.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Draco (if he really was Draco) asked.

She couldn't stay there. She couldn't just fall into this trap! But what could she do? She had her wand, she could fight her way out of this. But doubt kept creeping up inside, saying, maybe he was right that she wasn't able to fight competently in her current state.

She needed to get out! Hermione thought about running outside, just apparating away. But, if it was true that this was not Draco and it was indeed a trap, they would have the entire cabin surrounded.

Her bedroom.

She could put a quick ward up and figure it out from there.

On three, she would run. On three she would sprint for cover.

 _1 . . . 2. . . 3!_

Without any more thinking, she bolted towards her room, slamming the door shut and pulled out her wand, wracking her panicked and exhausted mind for the spell. She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. She needed to think and fast.

Her eyes popped open as the spell finally made its way to the front of her mind. She hated how slow her thoughts had become. Even in her adrenaline filled state, she was somewhat lethargic. She placed the spell and stepped back from the door.

"Hermione! What's going on!?" Draco sounded concerned, and very close. He was right outside the door.

Was she just being overly paranoid or was Draco in serious danger? Had he already been killed?

No, she couldn't think like that now.

"Hermione, listen to me." He sighed. "I know you're scared, and overly exhausted, but we don't have much time."

What was he talking about? Why didn't they have much time?

Hermione needed to remind herself that it may not be him, maybe they were simply trying to lure her out? It sounded like Draco, but she couldn't be absolutely certain.

What could she ask him that nobody else would know? What could she ask him that would reveal if he was truly Draco Malfoy?

They had been at the cabin, completely alone for a while. She just needed to ask about something that happened there.

"What happened on our second date?" she asked timidly through the door.

"Oh . . ." he whispered, realizing what was happening. "It was after your first nightmare. I had a picnic planned, but I wasn't sure if it was a good idea because that was where you were in the dream, but you wanted to do it anyway. It was sunny, and bright, and we used a warming spell. We talked for hours."

It was him.

Trembling, she took down the wards and opened the door.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked.

Hermione nodded slightly, still watching the professor who stood at the end of the hall.

Draco pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her until the shaking stopped.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"No, I'm sorry. You were smart. I should have thought about that. It was good that you made sure," he told her.

She nodded against his shoulder and took a deep breath when his arms slipped away.

"Snape really is here to help us. Let him explain." Draco took her hand and lead her back to the sitting room and stiffly settling onto the sofa.

The professor was just as dark and threatening looking as always, though now he seemed slightly more concerned. Slightly. The man was difficult to read.

"We do not have much time," he said.

Hermione swallowed, unsure of where this was going.

"The Order was set up and attacked before anyone could be sent to you," Snape began.

"Is everyone alright?" Hermione questioned anxiously.

"No one was killed but there were some severe injuries. They are being looked after and should recover, but for now, we have bigger problems."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Hermione asked.

"Miss Granger, now is not the time. They are coming," the professor warned.

"No, you made Draco do some terrible things. And you gave him the choice of killing me! How can we be sure you can be trusted?" she responded.

"Draco always had the choice to run. I simply informed him that he had to go on the revel if he intended to stay in the Dark Lord's good graces, nothing more. There was no way he could have stood in the Dark Lord's presence having not gone on the revel and with you still alive. He would have been gravely punished, and very possibly killed. He had. to make. the choice. And it had to be his," Snape said. "Now, if we are finished with the chit chat, we need to move."

"Professor, how do you _know_ they are coming?" Hermione questioned. She needed to know what they were dealing with. Was he a Death Eater? All the evidence seemed to point towards that being the case, but she wanted to be positive. She had known the professor for years, and even though he had never been pleasant to her, she had respected him.

The man lifted his sleeve to reveal the dark mark on his left forearm.

Hermione gasped. It was true. She knew it was, but now, she could no longer deny it. She glanced over at Draco who was staring at his lap.

"I was, a long time ago, but then I became a spy for the Order. Now, because of Draco's heroism my cover will be blown," he told them.

Hermione's eyes grew large. She was not expecting _that_ turn of events. He was spying for the Order? How long? Why did he change? When did he change? Hermione had so many questions

"Why? Why did you change sides? Why do you want to help us?"

"You ask too many questions Miss Granger." He sighed, looking urgently out the window to make sure they still had enough time. "If you must know, someone was killed who should not have been in that danger, because of me. Now, let's go."

Someone had been killed because of him. It must have been someone close to him if he was willing to switch sides because of it.

"What's happening?" Hermione asked becoming more frightened by the second. The professor's urgency could not be a good sign.

"You _must_ leave now." Snape ordered. "The Dark Lord _knows_ where you are. They are coming tonight. They will be here any minute, and as soon as they breach the wards, they will prohibit any disapparation and you will be trapped. Now, we must leave!" he said urgently.

Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, she could feel its quick pace pulsing through her veins. This was really happening. They had been found. Draco gave her hand a tight squeeze.

A bright light filled the room and a loud crash was heard, making the ground shake. It was too late.

She saw Draco and Professor Snape lock eyes. Did they have a plan? Hermione was terrified and confused. Why wouldn't Draco tell her? Why did they constantly keep her in the dark?

"Your room," he whispered.

She looked at him. "What is happening? What are you going to do?"

"Just listen to me!" he said quickly. "You are going to go to your room and hide. Wait for me to come back."

"Wait! What? Where are you going? Why won't you be with me? Why aren't we fighting? If we have nowhere to go –"

"Just do it Hermione. It will be alright," Draco insisted getting up from the sofa.

"I will fight to get their wards down so you can apparate out of here," the professor declared, moving into position closer to the door.

This was all wrong! Why weren't they telling her everything?!

"Go! Now!" Snape yelled.

Still shocked, Hermione ran back to her room, shutting the door.

She couldn't understand why Draco would be out there when he told her to hide. He wasn't planning on fighting was he? He would get himself killed!

She took a deep breath. The professor knew what he was doing. Draco knew what he was doing. Didn't they? She wondered if Professor Snape could really fight them. What if there were too many? What if he couldn't hold out?

Hermione felt panic rising again. She looked around frantically. Where could she hide? Behind the bed would be the only place really. Quickly, she jumped across the bed and sat in the corner between it and the wall. She closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing and settle her nerves. She would need to be mentally prepared for this fight. Whatever happened, she knew it would be a difficult night.

She wondered what would happen to Professor Snape. Would they kill him? Would they just stun him? No, these were Death Eaters and they were just finding out that one of their own was helping the enemy. They would have no mercy. Hermione felt horrible that they were leaving him to fend for himself.

Hermione couldn't believe this was happening. How long had Draco been gone? Was he alright? She could hear shouting and the zapping sounds of spells hitting furniture in other areas of the cabin. Snape was yelling and a woman was yelling back. Hermione couldn't quite make out what they were yelling about, but it didn't sound pleasant. Where was Draco? Why wasn't he back yet?

She jumped when the door opened. Was it a Death Eater?

Her wand gripped tightly in her hand, she mentally prepared herself for what could be coming.

"It's me," Draco whispered. Hermione poked her head up above the edge of the bed to find him putting wards up around the room.

"It won't do much, but it will give us a few extra minutes to prepare if it comes to what I think it might," He said, coming towards where she was. With a relieved breath, she slumped back against the wall, grateful to have him siting beside her.

"This is bad," he declared. "My aunt Bellatrix is here."

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked.

"She's ruthless, and quite insane. And, she is probably very angry that her one nephew, whom she was so very proud of, defected and is helping a muggle-born. That mix does not bode well for either one of us."

"What were you doing? How did you get past them?" Hermione questioned.

"I sent an owl for help. And they were very focused on Snape at the moment, so I disillusioned myself and snuck past," he explained.

"Reckless," she scolded him. "But perhaps the best hope for our survival," she added.

Hermione winced, hearing more spells being cast from outside in the main area. Draco held her close. "How is he doing out there? Is he alright?" she asked.

Draco sighed, obviously not hopeful. "He's alright for now, but there are more of them, and even though he's good fighter, they'll get past soon."

Hermione's stomach clenched as the gravity of the situation hit her full on. "We don't have much hope of getting out of here now, do we."

"Not particularly," he replied.

"I'm scared," Hermione whispered.

Draco just held her tighter against him and she could tell that he was afraid too.

"He loved a muggle-born you know," he said.

"Who? Professor Snape?"

Draco nodded. "Told me a while ago. That's why he's helping us."

"The person who was killed because of him, the death that made him switch sides in the war. It was her wasn't it."

He just looked at her, eyes conveying such emotion, trying to tell her something his words just couldn't. Was he afraid the same thing was going on here?

"This is not your fault," she told him.

Her mind kept flashing back to Snape and the pain he must have felt. Poor Professor Snape! Now he was out there all alone fighting for them.

"We have to help him," she said.

"We can't," he said.

"We have to! We're basically sitting ducks here anyway! We are just waiting for them to break through that door! Wouldn't it be better to go down with a fight Draco?"

"We have to wait. If he gets down the wards holding us in, we can apparate out!" he insisted.

"Draco, what if he can't? None of us –" before she could finish, the wards crackled viciously. A spell hit one of the people at the door and they went down with a thump. Someone fired an killing curse but Hermione couldn't tell if it hit its mark. Snape was doing exceedingly well and Hermione wondered why he hadn't gotten the Defense against the Dark Arts position sooner at Hogwarts. Surely he was an extraordinarily talented dueller to stand up against multiple Death Eaters.

Another spell hit the wards and they crackled loudly again. It wouldn't be long now before the wards around the room fell. Even together, they weren't powerful enough to hold up against the Death Eaters.

The dual continued on the other side of the door, the light from various spells and curses flashing beneath it.

With one more powerful hit to the wards, a bright light filled the room and Hermione felt the tingling almost like a light electric current run through her body as they shattered. With a crash the door burst open and the smell of smoke permeated the air. Something was burning. It wouldn't be long before the entire cabin was up in flames. They had maybe a couple of minutes.

"Bella, he is your own nephew, your own blood." Snape said. He sounded tired, weak, as though he had been injured.

Hermione's fear trapped her in place, petrified her, she couldn't move, couldn't even breath. It seemed as though Snape was the only thing standing in the way of the Death Eaters and them now.

"Yes, but he _so_ disappointed me. _Avada Kedavra_!" Bellatrix shouted and a bright green light filled the room.

Hermione heard the Professor grunt as the curse hit. "No!" she screamed without thinking. Draco's hand came up to cover her mouth but it was too late.

In a second, the bed was sliding across the floor, leaving them open and vulnerable. With adrenaline rushing through her blood stream, Hermione leaped to her feet, wand in hand.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " she shouted, but the witch easily deflected the spell and cackled with laughter.

Hermione's eyes darted down to the professor's body on the floor. Professor Snape was dead. He had died for them, died trying to protect them, trying to get them out of this alive. But it was for nothing. They would be killed anyway. She felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes.

She didn't have time be sad, she didn't have time acknowledge the professor's sacrifice, because they were now facing the same evil that had ended his life.

" _Protego!_ " Draco cast the protection curse against the spell of a Death Eater behind his evil aunt.

" _Crucio_!" Bellatrix screamed with glee.

All she could feel was pain. Hermione fell to the floor, trying to avoid the burning of her flesh, but all around her, every inch of her body was on fire. She heard a strangled howl from someone in the room and it took a second before she realised it was coming from her. It was like a thousand hot knives were being stabbed into her. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt hot tears seeming to burn her cheeks as the curse ripped through. There were more Death Eaters entering the room, but everything was a blurry distant compared to the pain in her limbs. Vaguely she heard Draco yell something, a curse or spell perhaps, and the pain stopped. Her muscles still twitched uncontrollably and her body ached dreadfully, but it was nothing compared with what she had just experienced.

Hermione saw the bright orangish red as the flames began to engulf the room.

"Ugh, we can't finish this here. Take them!" Bellatrix ordered.

Before Hermione could react, she was trapped in a body bind curse. She could still see Draco fighting, but he was soon surrounded between the Death Eaters and the flames of the fire that had spread across the ceiling and down to the curtains behind him. With one last spell, he was bound as well and the feeling of disapparation overtook them.

* * *

 **Author's note:**

 **Hey everyone! Finally got this chapter done! It's a bit shorter than recent ones but a lot happened. I hope it didn't feel too rushed. I tried to do it justice for you guys, but I am still absolutely exhausted. Finals were brutal, didn't sleep much, but they are all over now and it is summer.**

 **Wow, you guys made me feel so loved. Definitely made me smile and made me want to get this chapter finished.**

 **Thanks to Musicangel913, fenix negro, The uber, bennettfan84, Firebolt.1.4.3, SereniteRose, saroura92, Drea2244, and other guests!**

 **Firebolt.1.4.3 – I am so glad my story has been able to help you. Thank-you for sharing and reviewing. You gave me a new perspective on the impact writing and posting can have.**

 **I'm not as confident at writing action scenes** **like this so I hope it was alright! Please review and let me know what you thought.**

 **Thanks everyone who read, reviewed, followed, or favourited!**


	18. The End

**Warning: A lot of violence in this chapter**

 **Disclaimer: It's JK Rowling's world with my own twist**

* * *

1997 – March 22

Darkness.

It was just like her last dream. Panic flooded through her system and her heart began pounding. This time, she could feel the ground, cold and hard beneath her, and she knew exactly where she was; the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself in attempt to cease the constant shivering. She couldn't tell if it was from the cold, from fear, or from the cruciatus curse she had been hit with earlier. She inhaled deeply, letting her chest expand and fill with air, even if it was dank and musty from the dungeons.

Her life was coming to an end; probably one filled with the most agonizing pain she had ever experienced. It was coming and she was helpless. It was coming and she was alone, in the dark, waiting. Waiting for the moment she knew was coming when she would beg for death.

Hermione shuddered at the thought.

She was unimaginably frustrated and angry with herself. How could she let this happen? Was her mind so slow that she couldn't convince herself to simply run? Did it really matter if Professor Snape was trustworthy? It would have been better to leave and face the consequences of trusting him later than what they were facing now. Now, Snape was dead, and they were captured with very little hope left.

She was supposed to be the smart one! She was supposed to be the one fixing things, not making them so much worse! Maybe this was why Hermione, Harry, and Ron had lasted so long. She was logical, but she didn't act on a whim, she needed to have all the information before proceeding. Harry and Ron were the ones who got up and did what needed to be done, even if it seemed utterly insane. As much as it had frustrated her in the past, today, that trait could have saved lives.

Her mind drifted to Draco and her heart ached. Was he alright? What was happening to him? She didn't want to think about what he could be going through at that very moment. She didn't want to have the image of him being tortured constantly flashing in her mind.

He could be fine. He could be right there in the dungeon and she wouldn't know. It wasn't as if she could even see her hand in front of her face.

Sitting on the hard ground of the dungeons, she dared not move. Hermione didn't know what else was there with her or what was around her. Images haunted her mind of deadly poison spikes surrounding her or a vicious monster, sleeping, that simply a touch of her hand would wake it. She had much too large an imagination to be left in the dark like this. It was going to drive her insane! Though, that may be the point. The thought chilled her. Maybe it was psychological torture before the physical torture began.

How long had she been sitting there? Long enough for her legs to begin to cramp, but the pitch black made it difficult to tell.

"Hermione?" It was Draco's voice. Her heart leaped.

"Draco?" she answered, relief washing over her. At least he was alive and they were together. "Where are you?"

"Move towards my voice," he told her.

"Is it safe to move?" she asked. "Is there anything else down here?"

"I think it's just us. I don't know what else you're worried about but prisoners tend not to last very long," he said solemnly.

Still wary of her surroundings, she slowly inched her way along the floor to her right, until finally, she felt Draco with her fingertips. His hand curled around hers and brought her closer, wrapping his arms around her. Somehow, even that action made her feel safer.

"What's going to happen to us?" she asked in a shaky and terrified voice.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

"I told you earlier, this is not your fault," Hermione insisted. "If anything, it's mine now," she whispered.

"Don't even talk like that Hermione. You did fine. You thought of the things I should have. Yes, we may have needed to be faster to prevent this from happening, but that is in no way on you. The Dark Lord has his ways of getting what he wants. Who knows, maybe that was part of his plan. Maybe he knew you were too smart to get caught so he had to slow down our instincts. But this whole situation was my fault to begin with. If it wasn't for me, you would never be in this mess."

"Please stop telling yourself that. It is in no way your fault. None of this was your own choice. You were forced to become a Death Eater, you were born into this deranged social group, you couldn't control any of this. You did your best to protect me and appreciate that, I really do. Now we are in this mess together and we can't change the past."

"How are you still talking like that? We're not going to make it out of here. These people are insane. They have only kept us alive because they couldn't have their fun with us at the cabin," he said in a hopeless voice.

"We still have now. We still have these final moments," she whispered.

She didn't want to die and she was completely terrified of the thought that they wouldn't make it out of there. But it was fairly inevitable that they wouldn't.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the sounds of the other's breathing. Suddenly, Hermione felt Draco take a deep breath beside her.

"I need to tell you something," he said. "You asked when I began questioning my prejudices. I think it started when you punched me in the face in third year." Hermione smiled at the memory. "I realized that you weren't some incapable mudblood, but a smart, strong, independent witch who was capable of standing up for yourself. I started to realise that you didn't fit anything that the word stood for, other than your blood status." He took another deep breath, like it was difficult for him to say these things, but needed to get them out before he was killed. "I began to admire a great deal of things about you and that terrified me. I thought that I had to reteach myself to hate you, that if I said enough cruel things to you and your friends that it would make me hate you again. I was afraid that if anyone found out, I would be shunned, or even worse if my father found out. I was taught that feeling anything but hate for someone like you was one of the worst things I could do."

Hermione had no idea that this had been going on for so long. "Draco, I- "

He cut her off. "No, please, let me finish. I need you to hear this," he continued. "The Yule ball in fourth year, when you went with Viktor Krum," he said the name with such distaste, Hermione was a bit taken aback. "Now, looking back, I think that was when I started to fall in love with you."

Hermione gasped quietly. Love? He had started to fall in love with her in fourth year? Oh, how she wished she could see his face.

"That was even more frightening. I couldn't control my emotions no matter how hard I tried. Soon, I couldn't even hear the word mudblood without getting a sickening feeling in my chest. In the summer before sixth year I was marked and I was so scared that I would give away my feelings and you would be in danger. I tried so hard to keep it from everyone, but us Slytherins, we are a perceptive bunch. The people I hung out with started to notice things and in the end, someone told their Death Eater father about it, who informed the Dark Lord. You know the rest. I've wanted to tell you for a while but I just couldn't. I was afraid it would ruin everything. I needed you to know before we die." He sighed. "I love you, Hermione."

She didn't know what to say. He had loved her for two years? He had tried so hard not to put her in danger. A feeling welled inside her, a feeling that she had only ever had flashes of before that was now pulling on her chest full force. Impossible as it may have seemed to her even a few weeks prior, Hermione was in love with Draco Malfoy.

With one hand, she felt for his face, fingers gently touching for where his lips may lie. Finding them, she leaned forwards and kissed him.

There was something about the dark, the pitch black that they were surrounded by, that enhanced every other sense in that moment. Hermione could feel his breath on her face, his lips against hers, smell the sent of his sweaty, smoke covered skin, the sweet taste of him in her mouth. She felt the strength in his arms as he held her tighter against him, deepening the kiss until they couldn't be much closer. Hermione ran her fingers up the back of his neck and through his already dishevelled hair.

This was love; this feeling of unimaginable intensity, this longing to never again be separated from his embrace. She memorized this moment. Every touch, every sensation, every emotion, clinging to it as if it were her last breath.

The door smashed open and light streamed into the dungeon, making the two instantly break the kiss; break that final, beautiful moment. Hermione squinted, the light hurting her eyes after being in the dark for so long. Draco still held her tightly, but this time more for protection than anything else and Hermione clung to him.

A man she had never seen before moved slowly towards them.

"Get up," he demanded gruffly. They both stayed where they were, huddled together on the floor. "I said, get up!" he yelled.

Hermione looked to Draco, who nodded slightly, and the two stood up shakily. Draco made sure to give her hand a squeeze of assurance and kept her close.

"Now, just the girl, come," the man growled.

"No," Draco growled back, just as menacingly.

"Do not say 'no' to me boy. She'll come, it's just a matter of if she gets killed now or later. Let her go and it's later."

Hermione was too afraid to move. She didn't know what to do. She did not want to go anywhere with this man, but she also didn't want to be killed right then, not in front of Draco. Apparently they took too long to respond because the man raised his wand and held it against Hermione's temple.

She gasped in fear, gripping Draco's arm as though it were a lifeline. Hermione looked up at him. He looked lost, conflicted. He didn't know what to do, how they could possibly get out of this, either. Did she really have any other choice than to do as she was told?

Hermione closed her eyes. "It's alright Draco," she said, almost inaudibly.

With one last squeeze, Draco let her go, and let her be led from the dungeon to the worst reality yet.

"Draco, I love you too," were her last words before the door was shut behind her.

* * *

Draco was sent back into darkness, alone with his thoughts.

Had he made the right choice by letting Hermione be taken? Should he have put up more of a fight? They had taken his wand so he had no weapon, nothing to fight with. He didn't stand a chance.

He sunk to the floor and buried his head in his hands. He guessed they still had a small bit of hope and he couldn't let her be killed right there, not when there was still a very, very slim chance that she could make it out of there alive.

He desperately hoped his message got delivered. It was the only chance they had left to live through this but he wasn't very confident in its outcome. Draco knew that should things go bad, the Death Eaters would want to do more than simply to kill them and they would take them back to Malfoy manor to have their fun. He was right. So maybe she could escape. Maybe. But the more he thought about it, the more he doubted that fact.

He had finally told Hermione. He couldn't die without telling her, he couldn't let her die without hearing. It had taken a lot to get the words out, he hated being so vulnerable. But in the end, it was all he could have ever hoped it would be, and so much more. He had told her that he loved her, that he had loved her for two years. He had poured out everything he had been keeping trapped inside for so long. It felt good to let it go, to finally tell her everything. Nothing could prepare him for her kiss, blind but passionate. He loved her. He loved the feeling of her in his arms, the feeling of her lips against his, the feeling of her fingers in his hair. For a possibly last moment with her, it was pretty good.

Then she was taken, taken to who knows what horrors. But her last words hung in the air, continually being restated in his mind.

She loved him.

She loved him and it gave him a new found motivation. He had to find a way to save her, had to think of a plan, a way to get out of the dungeons. If only someone would come down to get him. Surly they would want him to watch as they killed her. That would be his chance. If he could make enough of a distraction, maybe she could get away. There was no hope for him either way, but at least maybe he could help Hermione escape.

Hermione's scream echoed through the dungeon from above and pierced him like a knife through his heart. He knew they would torture her, he knew they would want him to hear her agonized cries and be completely helpless to do anything. That he was. He should have been prepared, but nothing could prepare him for how much it hurt to listen to her suffer like that.

Another scream from above and Draco knew he couldn't just sit around, he had to _do_ something! He knew it was impossible, that no matter how hard he smashed his body against that door, it wouldn't budge, but he had to try, he had to try _something_! Even if it was loud enough for her to hear that he was trying, to give her that small bit of hope. Draco stood up and closed his eyes, remembering where the door lay. Finally finding it, he banged his fist against it.

Hermione's cries grew louder as the torture continued. Cruciatus he knew, and he hoped they wouldn't do anything else. He couldn't stand to think of the other vile things they could do. He had seen it, what they did to female muggle-borns, the hell they put them through. It was much more than the Cruciatus.

He had felt the pain of that curse himself, and though it was the worst pain he had ever felt before, he had recovered without lasting effects. The other things they did, if the victim had lived, they may have never fully recovered. Granted, if the curse was held over the victim long enough, their mind started to go.

No. He couldn't think about that. He had to give her any hope that he could. Maybe he could get to her in time. Draco smashed his body against the door, wincing at the pain it caused him, then scolding himself. This was nothing compared to what Hermione was facing.

Her screams got even louder and more desperate from above. He heard her plead and beg, and knew they must be amplifying her words so that he could hear them more clearly. Draco growled and threw himself against the door again.

It seemed to go on for hours. She would scream in agony, then they would stop to give her a rest before initiating the curse again, each time causing a new cycle of anger, pain, and desperation to arise within him.

Suddenly, the screaming stopped, and didn't restart. No! No! Could they have killed her? It would have been an accident because they would have wanted him to watch as they did it. They couldn't have! No, he wouldn't believe it.

"Hermione!" he shouted. "Hermione!" He smashed himself against the door again. "Hermione!" he shrieked again. Still, there was no sound.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Draco was sent flying back across the ground. Before could even react, he felt sudden calmness come over him. He recognized the feeling immediately. He was being controlled with the imperious curse. This would have been horrifying to him if the spell hadn't taken away any sense of responsibility.

Who was controlling him? He noticed the gleeful expression on his aunt's face as she led him up the stairs and knew that whatever he was going to be forced to do would absolutely destroy him when the curse was lifted. But right then, everything was alright.

Draco was led to a room where an eager looking group of Death Eaters waited. Things seemed blurry, like it was all some sort of dream. He couldn't feel pain, or the panic he was feeling just a moment ago. It was as if he was floating on a cloud just watching as he moved involuntarily.

He noticed Rowle looking very excited, Dolohov, his father watching unemotionally. The Dark Lord himself was among his followers. This should have seemed strange, should have sent warning bells off in his head, but now, there was nothing but calm.

The Dark Lord nodded at Bellatrix who cackled with eager anticipation.

"Torture her," his aunt commanded him, with a sickening grin on her face.

His gaze turned to the unconscious body, laying on the ground at his feet.

It was Hermione.

Her cheeks were lined with evidence of tears and her body was covered in sweat and blood. Draco felt a wand being pressed into his hand and knew he was expected to use the cruciatus curse on her. Something stirred inside of him; something strong, powerful. Draco knew this wasn't right. He had fight this! He couldn't let himself torture Hermione! No! He couldn't! He wouldn't!

"Oops! Forgot she fell unconscious. _Rennervate_ ," Bellatrix said, pulling Hermione out of her sleep.

Draco watched as she went from first opening her eyes, to confusion, to horror. He needed to be more upset by what was happening! He still felt as though he were watching from far away, as if the situation was normal, or even pleasant. Draco needed to snap out of it!

"Draco!" his aunt barked. "Do it! Torture her! Cruciatus! Now!" she ordered again, getting impatient.

"Draco, please. Fight it," Hermione begged him, voice hoarse from screaming. Laughter erupted around him, but the words gave Draco new motivation.

He couldn't do this! Somehow, he had no control over his own body and to his horror, he found himself raising his wand toward Hermione. He tried to lower it, tried to at least affect the direction in which the curse would go, but nothing was working.

" _Crucio_." Draco heard the word come out of his mouth, mechanical, unemotional. And Hermione was thrashing on the floor, screaming, by the end of his own hand, his magic, his wand. Why couldn't he stop this? Why couldn't he fight it? Potter did it, he remembered. Potter was able to fight the curse, resist its pull, break its hold. Why couldn't he? He was hurting Hermione! Why couldn't he stop this? Finally, his controlled self lifted the curse.

Laughs and evil cackles filled the room around him. The Death Eaters were enjoying this little show.

"Do it again!" Bellatrix yelled.

No! " _Crucio_ " And again, Hermione's pained howl sliced through him. He fought, fought hard and this time was able to gain back some tiny bit of control and pull the curse off sooner.

"Alright, alright, enough fun. Kill her," he was ordered.

No. He wouldn't do it. He had to stop himself.

Hermione looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Draco," she whispered looking him straight in the eye. "I believe in you."

That gave him the will to push through the rest of the way, bursting through the haze of the curse, and he fell to his knees, exhausted.

" _Crucio_!"

Draco couldn't tell who had cast the curse, but it hit him with a vengeance, setting his bones on fire. His own screams filled his ears as he writhed on the ground, agony surrounding him. He couldn't breath, every breath felt like a knife being thrust down his throat. Every touch of his flesh upon the floor was as if being pressed to red hot iron. Even through the pain, he knew he had to get to Hermione. At least they would be together.

As soon as the curse was lifted, Draco ignored the aftershocks as much as possible and pulled himself along the floor to where Hermione lay. Muscles still twitching, he pulled her up against himself, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as tightly as he could. Her breathing was weak and she was barely conscious.

"Hermione," he whispered her name. "I'm sorry." He looked up and glared at his father who must have recently escaped prison. Azkaban had not been good for him as he looked lost and disheveled. Draco had once admired the man, now, he was one of the most hated Death Eaters in the room. Yes, he had probably been broken in prison, but that didn't mean he could stand there and watch his son torture a girl under imperious, then be tortured himself when he fought the curse off. He was a coward, an evil coward.

"That's cute," Rowle sneered.

"It seems the fun is over," the Dark Lord stated, obviously disgusted by the show of affection. He stepped forward and stared directly at Draco. "So much potential. What a disappointing waste." He turned to his followers. "Who would like the honour to end the traitor and his little mudblood lover's lives?"

Draco couldn't understand why he was even there. Surely killing Draco wasn't the most important thing on the evil man's schedule. Why was he taking the time? Was it to make certain it got done?

"I would, my lord." Bellatrix answered enthusiastically.

"Your own nephew, Bella?" the Dark Lord questioned. He seemed impressed by the show of loyalty.

"He stopped being my nephew the moment he chose a mudblood over a powerful wizard like you my lord," she replied.

Draco glared at his father, who was still staring stone faced at the two teenagers on the ground. Was he really that far gone? Was he really going to stand there and let his only son be killed?

Draco kissed Hermione's cheek, not completely sure whether or not she was still conscious. "We'll be together," he whispered. "To the very end."

Bellatrix raised her wand.

"Draco, you disappointed me very much. It really is a pity. Could have made a great team." She shrugged as if tossing aside such ideal thoughts. " _Avad-_ "

Before she could finish the incantation, there was a pop of someone apparating and Bellatrix's wand was soaring across the room.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Another chapter! Don't worry, it's not the end (even though that is what the chapter was called). There are still a few more.**

 **This is where my story diverges more from the books. I've started to change a few minor things in this chapter that fit with my plot such as the time of the Azkaban breakout. I hope it's alright.**

 **Sorry about the cliffy but it just seemed like the right place to end! Wow, that was intense. It's summer now, so I should have more time to write and get the next chapter up for you on time. Yay!**

 **Thanks to Sachiko Heiwajima, bennettfan84 and NikeCeleste13 for your reviews!**

 **I admit the last chapter was a bit frustrating but hopefully I cleared it up somewhat here. Let me know! Tell me what you thought of the chapter and what is going to happen next! I'm excited to hear what you think.**

 **Thanks to everyone who read and have a great week!**


	19. The Battle

**Disclaimer: The creation of Harry Potter is of RK Rowling**

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"Potter!" Bellatrix shrieked.

The Dark Lord did not seem so surprised. In fact, he almost looked . . . pleased. Draco didn't understand. He should be angry, confused, shocked by the sudden appearance of Harry Potter, come to foil his plans once again. But he stayed completely calm, not even a twitch of distain. It didn't make much sense.

Once the first curse was initiated, chaos ensued. Draco tried his best to shield Hermione from the spells flying every direction, but he knew he had to get to safety, at least to the side of the room.

With every last bit of strength he could gather within himself, Draco pulled Hermione across the floor, edging them both to the corner of the room. He felt his arms giving out, their strength drained by the curse, but he was determined. If only for Hermione, he had to get them out of the line of fire.

Finally he reached his destination and slumped against the wall, still clinging to Hermione's limp form.

He watched as the Dark Lord went straight for Potter, each movement precise and purposeful, eyes for only a duel with him; a duel to end it all.

Then it struck him. The reason the Dark Lord was even there; he knew Potter was going to show up! Draco had fallen right into his plan. Once he knew Hermione was alive, he terrified her, every night sending dreams into her mind; dreams of Potter and Weasley being killed. He was trying to get her to contact them! She hadn't, but when things got bad, Draco did. The Dark Lord had used Hermione's friendship with Potter bring him there, to lead him into a trap. The Order was attacked so he wouldn't have the back-up he needed. It was brilliant really.

Every step the Death Eaters made had been predictable and so too, apparently, had his own.

Dumbledore wasn't necessarily trustworthy to get a message to in an emergency, so he had sent it to Potter, knowing that the boy was famous for jumping into action without thinking. He was glad he was right, and even more glad that Potter hadn't come alone. Weasley was holding his own firing spell after spell, Longbottom was there, Looney Lovegood, Weaslette, whatever her name was. There were also a few adults there who must have been a part of the Order. He recognized Lupin, but there were a couple others he hadn't seen before.

Draco couldn't help thinking that he had just led the Dark Lord to victory. Did the small group of mostly teenagers even stand a chance against the Dark Lord himself and his fiercest, most loyal followers? If Potter was killed, the war would be over and the entire wizard world would suffer the consequences.

He watched, other duels falling to the background, as his eyes focused on Potter and the man he had once followed.

"It's you or me. Let's end this once and for all!" Potter yelled across the room.

The Dark Lord was relentless in his pursuit, forcing the boy back, blowing a chunk of wall to pieces where he had just been standing. In another moment, the two had disappeared into the next room, dueling, alone, to the death.

Draco wanted to fight! He was useless just sitting there! He was the one who brought this about! Draco was the one who hadn't thought that the mad wizard might be planning something big. He should be fighting.

Where was his wand? Draco looked around frantically, scanning every inch of the room.

There, directly in the center of the battle was his wand.

"Damn it!" he breathed in frustration.

He brought his thoughts back to the girl in his arms, the girl who managed to still be beautiful amidst the blood and sweat. Maybe it was a blessing that he didn't have his wand. He wouldn't leave her behind. Would never leave her by herself. She was unconscious, defenseless. If he could keep them as out of sight as possible, perhaps they could survive.

He was brought back to reality when a cry ripped through the room. Weasley was down and his sister was having trouble keeping it together. He couldn't die! Not now, not because of this! If Hermione survived, this would break her!

"Get up, get up," he whispered, willing the annoying Gryffindor to be alright. Nothing. Was there blood? Draco couldn't tell. "Just don't let him be dead," he pleaded to the universe.

Maybe he had simply been stunned, perhaps he was just unconscious. Draco thought of who he had been fighting. Dolohov.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. He knew of the curse that man used and it was not pleasant. It was the same curse Hermione had been hit with that previous year, nearly killing her. Weasley needed help fast if he was going to survive, if he wasn't dead already.

Draco hoped someone else had realized the same thing by now, but they were dealing with their own duels. He wished he could do something, anything, but his wand was out of reach and he was still so weak from the cruciatus curse that he wouldn't be much help anyway.

Something else caught his attention. His father was suddenly flying across the room and the cause? A small creature stood where his father just had. . . Dobby? Draco hadn't seen the elf in years, not since Potter set him free.

His father had been terrible to the poor elf but he was somewhat of a friend to Draco throughout his childhood. Draco had always hated the way Dobby was treated but was more afraid of his father, too afraid to say anything about it. Now he was there, fighting back against his old master.

Dobby being there explained how the group had managed to apparate into the manor. The wards had probably been raised the moment him and Hermione were brought there, preventing any uninvited apparation.

The battle was not going well. Weasley was still unconscious, Longbottom was bleeding profusely from a wound to his leg, but was continuing to fight, the Death Eaters were gaining ground while the Order was losing duellers.

After everything they had been through, after saying his piece to Hermione, after believing they would both die a while before, this could finally be the end. Draco couldn't imagine Potter winning. Actually, he couldn't believe he had lasted this long. Surely the Dark Lord would have announced the boy's death immediately after it occurred.

Lupin was ordering Dobby to do something, but Draco couldn't quite make out what he said. The elf turned and looked in their direction. He didn't understand what was happening, not until the little creature had apparated across the fight and to his side.

"Dobby," he whispered, finding his voice too weak to be much louder.

"Dobby will save master Draco, and his friend. Dobby will take them to safe place," the elf explained, holding out his tiny hand for Draco to hold, as well as taking Hermione's in the other.

In the next moment, Dobby disapparated them from the manor.

But the battle didn't end at the manor.

As soon as he felt his feet hit the ground, Draco knew he would be in the center of a different kind of fight. At least this time, Hermione would be safe. This time, only he would be the target.

Draco didn't know exactly where they were, but it was some sort of house. They had escaped the manor and Hermione was safe, but that didn't mean he wanted to let go any time soon.

As long as he wasn't one hundred percent certain of what was happening, there was still a possibility of danger. So he clutched Hermione's limp form as tightly as possible.

He was glad she was unconscious, as he knew the agony she would still be in if she was awake. Draco could feel her muscles constantly twitching and contracting in his arms. He knew she needed help and hoped beyond everything else, that she hadn't been under the curse too long. Hermione had a brilliant mind and he didn't even want to think of the possibility of her losing herself.

A short, plump, red haired woman, whom he recognized as Mrs. Weasley, ran into the room, face filled with concern.

"It's Hermione!" she called.

Another girl came into the room followed by two other Weasley boys, twins, Fred and something or other. He could not tell the two apart for the life of him.

"Is she alright?" one of the boys ran in asking.

"Does she look alright?" the other said sarcastically.

"Let her go so we can help her," someone else was saying.

But Draco still held on, not wanting to be separated from her again. Draco was overwhelmed by the people coming at him, questioning him, yelling. It made his head spin and caused him to hold Hermione tighter.

"The poor boy has been through a lot by the looks of it," Mrs. Weasley told them in a somewhat calm voice, then came over to speak directly to him.

"He's with the enemy!" one of the boys reminded.

The woman sighed. "Draco is it?" he nodded. "We need to take her to a room so we can heal her. Nothing bad is going to happen to her if that is what you're worried about. We are all worried about this girl's safety right now. So please let us help her."

Slowly, he unleashed his grip. He did want her to get help. She needed to be alright.

Hermione was pulled gently away from him and rushed away. His heart clenched. What were they going to do? Was she going to be alright? He wouldn't be able to live with himself if she wasn't. He had to be with her, just to make sure, just until he knew.

Draco tried to follow, but was forcefully held back.

"You need to come with us." He was pulled back into a bedroom.

"No! I need to go with her," Draco demanded.

"You are staying here. And you need to tell us what happened to her," one of the twins said.

He paused a moment before answering. "Cruciatus. A lot of it," he replied quietly.

"Damn," they both whispered. "I'll go tell mum," the one standing on the left said, turning to leave.

"You better not have had anything to do with this," the other twin warned. "That girl is like a part of the family and you have no idea what it did to mum thinking she was dead, she's got such a big heart you know and if you've done anything to hurt her," he left those words hanging in the air and followed his brother from the room.

Was he talking about Draco hurting Hermione or hurting his mother by lying about Hermione's death? Probably both. And both were correct assumptions of him. He had done both those things; hurt Hermione and lie about her death, hurting a countless number of others who cared about her.

Draco stood up and moved to the door. He shouldn't have been surprised to find it locked, they obviously didn't want him anywhere near Hermione so they wouldn't have left him alone without making sure he wouldn't go to her.

He felt bare without his wand, as though a part of himself was missing. Maybe he would get it back, if the Order members picked it up. Though, on second thought, they probably wouldn't give it back to him considering they thought of him as an evil Death Eater.

Draco was tired of being locked places and feeling helpless. He wanted to be with Hermione, to make sure she was alright, to be there when she woke up. But these people didn't trust him and were unsure what to do. He paced back and forth across the room. She was in good hands, wasn't she? They were going to look after her, heal her, make sure she was alright? They seemed to care about her quite a lot, so hopefully that was a good sign.

He sighed. As long as Hermione was alright, he guessed it really didn't matter what happened to him. He had known that he wasn't going to get a warm welcome anywhere now. He predicted that soon, he would be taken to Azkaban. He had used multiple unforgivables on unarmed muggles, not to mention the use of the cruciatus curse on Hermione.

He stopped pacing and sunk down onto the bed. He deserved to rot in Azkaban. He had tortured Hermione! He rubbed his hands over his face. He had turned his own magic against her, something he swore he would never do again. Her screams haunted him. He couldn't get them out of his head. He deserved for those moments to haunt him. He was a monster. Obviously, he didn't have enough will to resist the curse sooner. Potter would have been able to. He should have been able to as well! This was Hermione who was being threatened!

Draco wondered what was happening at the Manor now. He hoped the Order was winning, he hoped that those awful people got what they deserved. He just wanted all this to be over.

Tears gathered in his eyes. How could he have let this happen? He should have begged his parents to let him go to Durmsdrang when he first started having feelings for Hermione. His father would have been very pleased and probably wouldn't have hesitated to enroll him in the school. He could have avoided this entire thing. He wouldn't have been forced to choose between kidnapping Hermione or killing her, he wouldn't have had to fall even more for her, she wouldn't have been brutally tortured. He would never forgive himself for what happened to her. She didn't deserve that; she didn't deserve any of this. She deserved to have a happy, peaceful life, not one filled with pain and war.

But that was what she had gotten and Draco couldn't change that. Hermione was somewhere in that house. Maybe she was still unconscious, but there was also a possibility that she had woken up and was in pain again.

He couldn't just sit there and do nothing when she was so close! Draco stood up again and recommenced his pacing, fingers tugging at his hair in frustration.

Then he stopped. She wouldn't want to see him. Maybe they were right to lock him up. He had tortured her for merlin's sake!

Draco rubbed the backs of his hands across his now wet cheeks, wiping away the tears.

He couldn't fix this. He had finally gotten what he had always dreamed of; Hermione's love. Now it was gone. How could she possibly love him after everything he put her through? She would resent him for the rest of her life. He would be in Azkaban and she would move on.

No, now he was being selfish! How could he be feeling sorry for himself when he was the one to do these horrible things to her? It didn't matter if Hermione loved him or not. It didn't matter if she resented him. He should go to Azkaban and he should hope that Hermione moved on from him.

Hermione deserved so much better than him. He had been saying it from the start. Draco had warned her how this relationship would end; heartbreak, pain. He had known she would get hurt in the end, but she hadn't believed him. She deserved someone better than a Death Eater. She deserved someone who could make her happy, someone who could always be there for her, protect her.

Draco wanted her to be happy and safe. He wanted her to have everything she desired. He wanted what was best for her, and that meant letting her go. He wasn't what she would desire anymore.

He stumbled backwards until his back hit the wall, his body sliding down until he sat on the floor. Draco shook as sobs shook through him.

This was the end. The end of everything he knew, everything he held close. It was the end of him and Hermione, the end Draco Malfoy. He didn't see how he would even escape the dementor's kiss seeing how loved Hermione was by everyone. Potter wouldn't stand for anything other than the kiss for what he had done. It wouldn't be long before he was locked up, waiting to lose his soul.

So Draco cried. He cried for Hermione, he cried for himself. He cried for the inevitability of what was coming.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Here's another chapter! Sorry it was a bit shorter, it was originally one chapter with the next one, but it got too long, so I split it up into two slightly shorter ones. A sad ending to this one, but it isn't over yet. There are a few more chapters coming. This story is coming to a close soon with only about three or four left.**

 **I hope the battle scene was alright and not too choppy. I think that tends to happen sometimes with my action writing. Let me know what you think!**

 **Thanks to bennettfan84, TheLastEcho, and NikeCeleste13 for reviews on my last chapter, they really mean a lot to me.**

 **Hey, do you want something else to read? I posted the first chapter of my new fic 'Good To You' yesterday. It's very different from my anything I've done so I'm a bit nervous about it, but I'd love for you guys to check it out! Don't worry, it shouldn't change the posting schedule for this story at all as I have up to chapter 22 mostly prewritten.**

 **I look forward to hearing from you guys! Have a great week!**


	20. The Outcome

**Disclaimer: the world is JK Rowling's the story is mine.**

* * *

1997 – March 24

Hermione blinked open her eyes. Her entire body ached terribly and she was still rather shaky and weak. Looking around, she recognized the room instantly and it left her with a warm sense of relief.

She was at the Burrow.

Hermione didn't remember much after the horrors of what they made Draco do. She recalled how he had finally fought off the curse, but next, she remembered his arms coming around her. He had kissed her cheek and told her they would be together. Everything was pretty in and out at that point, but the moment she was held in his arms, hearing the words he thought may be his last, she would never forget.

"Hermione." It was Harry's voice. Slowly, she turned her head to see him, wincing even at the slight movement. He had bruises and partially healed cuts covering his face and his arm was in a sling, but overall, he seemed alright.

"Harry," she croaked.

"We thought you were dead," he told her, his eyes slightly watery with unshed tears.

"I know and I'm so sorry," she replied.

Harry took a deep breath. "It's alright. It wasn't your fault," he told her.

She wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that she had let this happen, but she realized something much more pressing.

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked. He must have been at the battle, as she couldn't see him let Harry go on his own. He should be there with Harry now. It scared Hermione that he wasn't.

"He'll be alright," Harry started. "He was hit with Dolohov's curse. It wasn't good and we barely got him out in time, but he's stubborn, he'll recover," he assured her, and took her hand in his. "I can't believe I'm really seeing you again. I went a bit crazy there. I thought I lost one of my best friends. And Malfoy, well, I was sure he was the one who did it. Ron was too. Especially when he stopped coming to classes and it came out that he wasn't even at the school. I wasn't sure what to think when I got that owl from him."

"He sent _you_ that message? I thought he sent it to Dumbledore."

"Reading from him that you were actually alive and in trouble…" Harry shook his head. "Thought for sure it was a trap. But I _had_ to help, in the slim chance that he was telling the truth. It was one of the hardest things I've had to do, waiting to leave, sending word to the Order. I wanted to drop everything and go, so did Ron, but then I thought about what you would say, that I was being reckless and needed to get help. But boy, was I tempted just to leave."

"What happened at the Manor? How did you get in? How did you escape?" Hermione questioned.

"Dobby got us in. Apparently Malfoy house elves can apparate and disapparate from there even if we can't." He looked at her, giving her hand a squeeze. "It's over. It's all over Hermione."

She didn't understand. The last she heard, they had no idea how to defeat Voldemort. What did Harry mean it was over?

"Harry, what are you saying?" she asked.

"He's dead. Voldemort's gone."

"But how?"

"When we thought you had been killed and Malfoy stopped coming to school, the only thing we could do was to focus on ending this. I poured everything I had into finding out how. I know Dumbledore did too. I got the memory from Slughorn and found out it was so much worse than we had thought. Voldemort had made horcruxes, split his soul and put it into significant objects," Harry explained. "We spent practically every waking hour hunting them down, finding ways to destroy them."

He paused, shaking his head. "I died, Hermione. He killed me, and I came back."

"What? I don't understand."

"The connection I had with him, the fact that I could speak Parseltongue; I was the last horcrux, the one he never meant to create. When he killed me, it only killed the part of himself that lived inside me. Now, it's all over. We won," Harry finished, a slight smile on his face. "I know it's a lot to take in right now. . . maybe I should have waited – "

"No, Harry. Thank-you for telling me. Yes, it is sort of insane, and I'm not quite sure I am understanding everything correctly, but, you did it," she told him, giving him a small smile.

"Lucius is headed back to prison, Dolohov was captured, Bellatrix escaped though." Hermione shuddered at the mention of Draco's aunt. How the two were related, she would never quite know. "Oh, I almost forgot." He placed something beside her and she strained to see what it was.

"My wand, you found it," she said, grinning. Harry nodded.

"I still don't quite know why Malfoy would do something like this. He hurt so many people," he whispered, more to himself than to her.

Of course they would blame Draco for all this. They always did.

"None of this was his fault," she insisted.

Then it struck her that Harry hadn't told her what had happened to Draco.

"Where is he? Where's Draco?" she asked, starting to panic. He wasn't killed, was he? He couldn't have been. She would have known somehow, wouldn't she? Had they already sent him away? Was he on his way to Azkaban? They wouldn't do that would they?

Harry seemed confused. "Why do you care? He's the one who kidnapped you, who kept you hidden somewhere, made everyone think you were dead and ended up getting you tortured, nearly killed! And why did you call him Draco? He's Malfoy, he's always been Malfoy."

"No, Harry, you're wrong about everything. Draco isn't the monster you think he is. He didn't follow through on his orders. Please, where is he?"

He sighed. "He's here, locked in Percy's room," he told her.

"I want to see him. Please. He shouldn't be locked up. He shouldn't be treated like a criminal."

"But he _is_ Hermione! He _is_ a criminal! He's a _Death Eater,_ like I've been telling you from the beginning of the school year!"

"You're wrong! Yes, he is marked, but that does not make him a Death Eater. He didn't choose this!" she insisted.

"I don't understand what's gotten into you. Malfoy is a Death Eater, just like his father. They both followed Voldemort, took orders from him, killed people. You're kidding yourself if you think any differently! He has always held his family's messed up views!"

"Please, believe me. He isn't the same cruel boy he used to be. He isn't the person you knew!" Hermione felt her heart rate rising her body tensing, and suddenly, the pain was back, her muscles shaking and cramping. She cried out in agony as the after effect of the curse shook her.

"Hermione!" Harry said, alarmed.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, waiting for the wave of pain to fade.

"I'm alright. Just, please, bring Draco here. I need to see him."

Hermione hated to see the confusion, alarm, and hurt on his face. He nodded and turned to leave.

"I missed you," she told him as he reached the door.

"We missed you as well. You have no idea how much," he replied.

* * *

The past day and a half had been horrible psychologically. He was trapped, imprisoned. But it hadn't been anything like he expected physically. He had been treated better than he could have ever dreamed, being a Death Eater, and practically better than his own parents had acted towards him growing up.

He shouldn't have been surprised about the Weasleys, but he was taught to hate them. Even though they accused him of being evil, of being the enemy, Mrs. Weasley treated him like a person. The others just seemed loyal to Hermione and unsure about him, but somehow, they defied everything he had been told about them.

Even though he was locked in a room, it was not a dungeon or some prison cell, but a bedroom, tiny, yet somewhat comfortable. He hadn't been treated as a prisoner should be either. Though closely watched, he had been allowed to wash himself up, been given clean clothes and fed. It seemed as if Mrs. Weasley could see right through him and saw, not a Death Eater, but a lost teenage boy, at least that was what she had told him. Draco wasn't quite sure.

He wondered whether Hermione had woken up yet and if she was alright. As much as it hurt Draco to think, she shouldn't want to see him now. She was surrounded by people she loved and who cared about her, and he was one of the people who had tortured her. He had been under the imperious curse, but that didn't mean he was any less responsible, did it? He should have fought harder. He shouldn't have let himself be forced to hurt her.

The door creaked open and there, Potter stood, arm in a sling, looking completely off put.

"Malfoy," he greeted coldly. "I have no idea why, but Hermione wants to see you."

Draco stayed where he was, silent. She shouldn't. He couldn't go to her now, could he? How could he face her after what he did?

"As much as I hate it, you have to come with me and I'll take you to her," Potter said distastefully.

Another moment of silence went by between them before Draco spoke. "I can't," he said quietly.

"Why not? You realize that now you can't do any more of, whatever you were doing to her, so now you don't want to?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about Potter," Draco sneered.

"Oh, don't I? You kidnapped her, made everyone think she was dead so no one would look for her, she ends up at the manor being tortured and now for some reason she wants to see you? I know you did something to her."

He had done something to her; something terrible. He had tortured her at his aunt's will.

"Bellatrix, what happened to her?" he asked.

"You were working with her weren't you?"

"Not even close," Well, not by my own desire. "I want to know if she's dead or not."

"She escaped," Potter told him.

"Damn it!" Draco yelled, punching the bed beside him. If she escaped, that must mean that the Dark Lord escaped as well. How Potter had gotten away himself, Draco wasn't quite sure.

The sudden act of anger seemed to confuse Potter. "My aunt is insane!" Draco explained. "She's one of the Dark Lord's most trusted, and most ruthless followers. She'll come back and make sure the job is finished. They can't keep us alive now. I know too much about the inner circle, about the Dark Lord and they can't keep Hermione alive either because they think she might know too much now as well."

Potter opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to decide against it.

"What's really going on here Malfoy?" He asked after a moment of silence.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Draco said.

Potter sighed in frustration. "This is taking too long, she's going to start to panic again."

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked.

"When she panics she gets after shocks," Potter informed him. "She wants to see you and I don't want to cause her any more pain. That's the only reason I'm here."

"She shouldn't want to see me," Draco groaned. "I hurt her Potter. I couldn't fight it."

"Couldn't fight what?"

"They put me under imperious and my aunt ordered me to torture her and I couldn't resist! I tortured her! She shouldn't want to see me," he explained.

"They got you to do all that to her? That doesn't make a lot of sense to me. They put you under imperious?"

"Not all of it. Not even close. Only at the very end. Made me listen helplessly to her screaming though."

Those words seemed to get to him because he stormed out, leaving Draco locked in the bedroom again. He didn't want Hermione to panic and be in more pain, but how could he go in there when he was responsible for even some of what she was facing, him being the reason she was in the situation in the first place?

He should be happy. At least now Draco knew that she was awake and that her mind was intact.

He wondered where Potter went. He had obviously only tried to talk to him because of Hermione.

Draco chuckled ruefully to himself. He always managed to piss Potter off, no matter what he said. He remembered the moment when Hermione had told him the two of them could have been friends. No chance of that! The boy was angered by his mere presence! Granted, he had just described Potter's best friend's torture . . .

Draco hung his head in his hands.

A few minutes later, the door opened and the man Draco recognized as Lupin, who had taught at Hogwarts for a year, stepped inside, coming to sit down on the bed beside him.

"Draco, I understand you've been through a lot in the past little while. I was told you were forced to do some things," he started.

Was that where Potter had gone? He had told Lupin? This surprised him.

"I couldn't fight it. I should have been able to fight it," Draco said, face twisting with despair.

"Even some of the strongest wizards cannot fight that curse," the former professor informed him.

"Potter could. If he could, why couldn't I?"

"Fighting that curse takes a lot of strength and will. Harry is strong, stronger than I think even he realizes. You were cursed with a very powerful imperious that I'm sure would be difficult to fight for anyone. The way the curse works inhibits that part of you that holds motivation, drive, a sense of purpose, of your own identity. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself."

How could he even say that? There was no excuse for hurting Hermione like that. Draco couldn't understand why he was defending him, a Death Eater.

"Why are you even talking to me? I'm the enemy."

"I don't believe you are. The way I saw you cover Hermione at the start of the battle, I think there is a lot of the story that the boys may be overlooking."

"They made me torture her and I couldn't stop myself. Not until they told me to kill her."

"So you did regain control. Don't take that lightly. You did fight it in the end. Hermione is strong, she'll recover. You saved her life by fighting the order to kill her."

"She wants to see me, but how can I face her?"

"Hermione knows it wasn't you. That's why she still wants to see you. Don't keep the girl waiting any longer." Lupin told him.

Draco looked at the man curiously. He didn't think he was evil? He didn't think Draco held the same beliefs his family did? He knew Lupin must care about Hermione, all these people did, so why did he feel comfortable letting Draco anywhere near her?

"You won't hurt hurt her again and she knows that as well. Go to her," the older wizard said, giving Draco a pat on the shoulder.

Was he crazy? Draco looked at him, finding only genuine concern in his eyes. Concern for him and for Hermione.

Draco took a deep breath. "Alright," he said finally.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **So, not really sure what I think of this chapter. It isn't one of the best ones I've written, sorry about that. I also know I may have rushed a few things, but I feel like it may be realistic with nothing for Harry to focus on except finding the answers and with Dumbledore still alive. Let me know what you think!**

 **This story is winding down, the main climax is over, but there's still a few things to tie up; Ron, a trial and maybe one more chapter after that.**

 **Thanks to SereniteRose for the review, you are awesome!**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	21. The Reunion

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the master**

* * *

1997 – March 24

Hermione looked so fragile and broken. She lay on the bed, unmoving, her eyes surrounded by dark circles.

"Draco?" she asked softly.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry," he couldn't help the feeling that he had done this to her. He tried to go to her side, but Potter held him back.

"No, do not blame yourself for this," she ordered him. "And Harry, please, he's not going to hurt me."

"Will somebody please explain to me what is going on here?" Harry asked, confused.

"Draco, what did you tell them in your message?" Hermione questioned.

Draco sighed knowing she was not going to be happy with his vagueness. It wasn't as if the boys would believe anything he told them anyway, it had to come from Hermione.

"I just told them that I didn't kill you, I kidnapped you and that you were now in horrible danger and would only make it out alive if they rescued you. I had a feeling my aunt would be a bit too quick with destroying the cabin, she always did enjoy destruction. I told them the location of the cabin as well as told them we would probably be at the Manor. I really didn't say all that much," he described.

Hermione sighed. "That explains why they have been treating you like a criminal. Harry, what he told you wasn't even close to being the full story. Draco kidnapped me because it was the only way to save my life."

Potter seemed even more confused.

"I was ordered to kill her and the only way to attempt to keep her alive was to kidnap her," Draco said, eyes on the floor. He had to make it clear that he was not some hero, but had been the one sent to kill her, had been the reason why she had been targeted in the first place.

"Draco knew that if anyone found out I was still alive they would hunt me down, that it would be much worse for me if I were discovered. He did his best to keep me safe Harry. But Voldemort was too powerful and learned that I was alive and where we were through some sort of legilimency. Draco couldn't have done anything to prevent what happened to me," Hermione explained.

"Why would Voldemort want you dead Hermione? He was after me," Potter wondered.

"Well," Draco took a deep breath. He really didn't want to share his feelings with the boy. "I didn't hate her as much as everyone thought I did. The Dark Lord found out and felt the need to eliminate the source of my inappropriate . . . not hating."

"But, I don't understand. Of course you hated her; you hated all of us. You were always horrible." Potter was still bewildered by all of this. Draco was beginning to get frustrated by his lack of comprehension of the matter.

"It was all an _act_ , alright?! At least with her. It was necessary to make people believe that I hated her or else… _this_ would happen!" he shouted, fed up with all of this and just wanting to be by Hermione's side.

Potter's jaw dropped and his eyes grew a bit wider. He had finally figured out what was going on. He looked between Draco and Hermione, probably trying to find some sort of clue that his realization was incorrect.

"You … You're…" Potter struggled to make out.

"Harry, I'm in love with Draco," Hermione told him.

Hearing those words come out of her mouth warmed Draco's entire being. How long had he waited? How long had he thought he would never hear her utter even his first name let alone the amazing words that came before it. Potter looked as if he was about to pass out.

Without waiting another moment, Draco went to Hermione's side and took her hand in his. "I'm sorry," he whispered again.

"Stop it. Stop apologizing. You did all you could. It isn't your fault," she reprimanded him. Hermione seemed very tired, as if all this was completely exhausting. She needed to rest.

"No, this isn't right," Potter said, coming to his senses. "You've obviously done something to her to make her think that…"

Draco sighed.

"No, Harry. Please believe me. Draco didn't do anything to me. Let him stay," Hermione pleaded.

"What do you think I could have done? And why? If I am really the horrible muggle hating wizard you think I am, why would I want to make Hermione fall in love with me?" Draco questioned, turning back to face Potter. "Do you think this is some big conspiracy to get inside the Order, to lead the Dark Lord to victory? If you do, then you are more thick than I thought you were. That man is insane and all I've wanted ever since he came back was for him to disappear again! He took over my house, threatened my family, destroyed my life, my soul! You think I want him to be alive?"

"Wait, you never told him?" Hermione asked, looking at her friend.

"Tell me what?" Draco asked.

Potter sheepishly looked at the floor. "Hadn't gotten to it yet."

"Harry! How could you keep this from him?" Hermione scolded. "Draco, Voldemort's dead."

Draco froze.

 _He's dead._

 _The Dark Lord is gone._

 _Potter did it._

His eyes went wide. Did he believe it? Hermione had told him it was true, so it must be, right? It was over?

Draco's body gradually relaxed as the words continued to sink in.

It was over. The war was done.

"Why didn't I notice it?" he asked, more to himself than to anyone else. The mark; he should have felt something. His hand absentmindedly came to rest over his left forearm.

"You had a lot on your mind," Hermione answered softly.

He needed to know for sure. Draco closed his eyes and pushed up his sleeve. Once he opened them, he would know for certain if the evil man was gone. Slowly, he looked down.

The mark was still there, but it had noticeably faded. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

He glanced up to see Potter staring at his arm. Draco sighed, realizing he had just shown him the Dark Mark.

"Hermione –" Potter started, but she interrupted.

"Harry, I don't want to hear it."

"Potter, she needs to rest and she's not going to be able to do that with you arguing with her. You need to let her recover and stop trying to find a reason why this isn't real. Whether you accept it or not, it is, so just let her rest," Draco told him.

"Fine, but I'm not leaving you alone with her," Potter said, leaning against the corner of the room.

Draco wanted to be able to freely talk to her and comfort her, but he wasn't being forced to leave so he would take what he could get.

"I'm not going to leave you," he said softly, sitting down beside her. After everything that had happened, he wasn't going to let anyone separate him from her side until he was dragged off to Azkaban. "Everything is going to be alright," he whispered, finally being able to say the words truthfully.

* * *

1997 – March 30

"Come on! Please?"

"No, Hermione," Draco replied with a small laugh. "The healer said you have to stay in bed. Your body needs to recover."

"It's been nearly a week! I don't think I can take much more of this. I am fine! What I need is to get out of this house, get some fresh air. I need to move my legs and stretch my muscles," Hermione stated.

"I'm glad you're feeling better, but I'm sure it won't be much longer," he assured her.

"I hope you're right because I'm about to hex that healer into oblivion if she keeps me tied to this bed for even another day!" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and lay back against the pillows stacked up behind her.

She had been sitting up, and eating proper meals for a few days now. All she wanted was to go for a walk; somewhere out of thought she couldn't hear what went on downstairs, but the voices carried plain as day. There was so much arguing going on about Draco, it was driving her mad! She knew they were only trying to protect her, but they needed to cut back that protection, just a bit.

Hermione was glad Draco had a couple people on his side. It made her smile to hear Lupin, and sometimes Mrs. Weasley standing by him. Harry was starting to come around, beginning to see that Draco wasn't trying to hurt her but attempting to keep her safe and do what was best for her. But no one fully trusted him, leading to yelling matches every time Draco wanted to see her. Of course nobody ever asked for her thoughts on the matter. Most of them didn't even believe what she said.

Ron hadn't been in to visit, but Hermione knew what that curse could do and understood that he needed to recover as well. Everyone said he was alright and was recovering quickly, but it was as if they were candy coating everything for her, as though she were some fragile doll who would break if the wrong thing was said.

She wished they would let Draco see her more often as he was the only one who treated her like she wasn't half dead.

Hermione sighed and took Draco's hand in both of hers, giving him a tight squeeze. There wasn't much use being angry with him when they had such a short time together. She missed the nights they had spent side by side, being able to wake up from a nightmare with his arms already around her. Now, he wasn't even on the same floor.

Yes, the Voldemort-induced nightmares had disappeared, but in their place remained dreams reliving that night. Every time she went to sleep, she was transported back, surrounded by Death Eaters, entertainment for Voldemort himself, in constant agony at the mercy – or lack thereof – of Bellatrix Lestrange. She wished that her friends could see that she was telling the truth, that Draco was trustworthy, and let him comfort her when she woke up absolutely terrified.

Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek and quickly wiped it away. But not before Draco noticed it's presence.

"Hey, everything will be alright," he told her softly.

"You keep saying that."

"Because now I know it's true."

"You can't know for certain. You can't ever know that," she argued.

Draco bobbed his head to gesture for her to move over in the bed. Hermione gave him a small smile and scooted over a bit, giving him room to join her. He pulled her into an embrace and she rested her head on his chest, hearing his heart beating beneath her ear. It was very soothing to hear the constant thud keeping the man she loved alive. Hermione closed her eyes as Draco's soft lips touched the top of her head.

Changing her position a small bit, she looked up at him, snaked one hand behind his neck, and gently pulled his head down so that the his next kiss would meet her lips. She moaned softly against him as he brought them closer, winding her fingers into his hair. They had not had enough time along lately and she missed having that freedom. Just when she realized how much she loved him, he was being kept from her.

The door slammed open, making Draco groan. "Again?" he whispered. It seemed as if every time they started to snog, they got interrupted.

"What is this?! Get out!" It was Ron. Of all the times to visit, he had to choose now.

"Will he hurt you?" Draco asked quietly.

"No, but he might hurt you," she replied honestly.

"Get _out_!" Ron yelled again.

"Alright mate, I'm leaving!" Draco responded, holding his hands up defensively as he slid off the bed and headed to the door. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."

Hermione wasn't sure if she had ever seen Ron this angry before, his face beet red.

"Well? Explain yourself!" he ordered. "We think you're dead and all this time you're off somewhere snogging the enemy? I don't understand Hermione!"

"That's not what happened and I think you know that," she told him, trying to keep her voice calm. She hated seeing the hurt and fury welling in his eyes.

"That's bloody well what it looks like!" he countered.

Hermione sighed sadly. "Ron, if it hadn't been for Draco, I would have actually been killed a while ago."

"That's what they keep saying."

"Why are you blaming me for this? I know that you were hurt, you thought I had been killed and I'm sorry for that, I really am. But the truth is that Draco isn't the evil prick you think he is. He was taught to believe certain things and when those beliefs started to fall apart, he couldn't talk to anyone, couldn't even let anyone know that he was questioning them. It would have been horrible for him if he had, and then when Voldemort returned, it would have been dangerous. You know what would have happened to him if any of the Death Eaters found out about his changing opinions," she tried to explain.

"He's still a Death Eater himself and nothing makes up for that."

"That wasn't his choice Ron! His father was a Death Eater and so he was forced to take the mark as well."

"I don't believe that he didn't want that mark in the first place."

"Oh, Ronald. Stop being so thick headed and for once open your mind to the possibility that Draco isn't the enemy you should be fighting."

"Stop calling him Draco! He's Malfoy! He's a Death Eater from a family of Death Eaters and has done something to you to make you think that he changed!"

"Am I your friend?" Hermione asked.

"Of course you're my friend Hermione; one of my best friends," his eyes started to soften.

"And do you trust me?"

"With my life."

"Then why won't you trust my judgement of him? He didn't hurt me. He didn't do anything to me to make my feelings change about him. Everything he did was to protect me, even when it meant putting his own life in danger."

"But Hermione, he took you . . . he took you away from us. Now I come in here and you're all over him like one of his school girl sluts!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "Ron," she nearly whispered. "Do you really believe that?"

"Again, that's what it looked like!"

Tears started to gather in her eyes but she took a deep breath and held them back.

"He's not who you accuse him of being. Ron, I told Harry, and now I'm telling you. I'm in love with him."

"What?! No, you're not!" Ron argued.

Hermione sighed. "I am. And I know, I know it seems insane, and too soon to be making such claims, but it's true."

"But. . . what if . . . what if I'm in love with you?" he asked.

"Aren't you dating Lavender Brown?"

"Was. Broke up," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"You don't. You don't love me that way Ron. We're friends, best friends, but we could never be more than that." She sighed. "I don't want to lose you."

"And how do you think we felt?" he asked solemnly. "I don't know if you realize Hermione, but you put us through hell thinking you were dead. I don't want to lose you either, but I'm afraid I already have."

"No, I'm right here. I'm still me, we're still friends-"

"But you're different. You've changed . . . somehow," he told her.

"We can't help who we fall in love with. I'm still the same person I was before all this happened."

"And I can't help still being in love with you. You have changed Hermione, but for some reason that doesn't change the way I feel about you."

"Ron – "

"And I don't trust him. I don't believe Malfoy is the saint you make him out to be. I can't believe Harry left you alone with him. Someone should be watching him every second he's with you."

Hermione shook her head, bewildered. "I don't understand you right now. One moment you come barging in here, yelling, calling me a slut, and the next you are telling me you love me and want to protect me? This past month and a half has been hard on all of us and I think each of us has changed. But that doesn't mean we can't be friends. That also doesn't mean I have become Draco's . . . slut. Can we put this behind us for just a moment? Please? I missed you so much. Now will you please stop pacing around, arguing and come give me a hug?"

Ron sighed. "Alright, but this isn't over."

Hermione knew it wouldn't be; he had always been good at holding grudges, but for now, he resigned to embracing the friend he had thought he'd lost.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hey guys! Another chapter here, I hope you enjoyed it. I feel like the part with Ron was a bit all over the place, but I think that is also part of his character so I hope it was alright. Let me know what you thought! I love hearing from you!**

 **Thanks so much to bennettfan84 and WolfGrigoryPassionSoulmate for the reviews.**

 **Thanks everyone for reading, and have a great week!**


	22. The Trial

**Disclaimer: Everything except the plot is from the mind of JK Rowling**

* * *

1997 – April 18

"It's perfect Hermione." She had been fixing his tie every few minutes for the past hour.

"Right," Hermione replied, sticking her trembling hands into her pockets.

Apparently, the ministry wanted to get the Death Eater trials finished quickly and quietly after the war was over. They had had two and a half weeks to prepare and they flashed by.

Now, they sat outside the Wizengamot, waiting for Draco to be called. After what they did to Harry, Hermione had a right to be nervous about today. She had a feeling that they would be even worse to Draco considering the charges against him; kidnapping, use of unforgivables, murder.

"It will be alright," Draco assured her again, taking her hand in his.

"You keep saying that, but you don't know," she said quietly.

"I know, that no matter what happens today, you will be okay. You have lots of people who care about you – "

"It's not _me_ I'm worried about!"

Draco flashed a small half smile. "It's sweet that you're worried about me, but I'm at peace with this. I did terrible things, and that's the truth. As long as you're alright, I've accepted what could happen."

"We talked about this!" Hermione told him urgently. "You didn't do those things; you were forced to do those things. You didn't have a choice!"

"Draco Malfoy," a voice called from the door.

Draco sighed. "I guess it's time."

"Draco! Tell me you understand! Do _not_ give in to this!" she nearly shouted.

She was beginning to panic. If he went in there with this attitude, he would be headed straight for Azkaban! Ever since they had escaped the manor, Draco had held this outlook and she hated it, she hated what those monsters did to him. They broke him, broke his will. He had been so fragile and they were finally making progress that he deserved better than what he had, but they destroyed that. After he was forced to hurt her, Draco went right back to thinking he was unworthy.

"I'll try. I will say what we practiced," he assured her, giving her a light, quick kiss.

"I love you," she told him as he stood up to follow the woman into the room that would decide his fate.

"I love you too," he replied.

"Good luck, Draco," Lupin said from beside them, giving the boy a firm handshake.

"Thanks." Draco turned, and disappeared into the next room.

Hermione sat still, frozen in place except for the constant shaking that expressed just how scared she was. Lupin took Draco's vacated seat beside her.

"There's a difference between him and the other Death Eaters and they'll see that. It's hard to miss," he assured her.

"But what if they don't give him chance enough to see it?" she asked.

"Then we appeal," he said.

"Thank you." Hermione looked at him. "It means a lot that you came. I know it means a lot to Draco as well."

"Are you sure you don't want me to get Harry?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She wanted Harry there with her, she wanted that more than anything. But even though they had been at least cordial for the past few weeks, Harry was not a fan of Draco and she needed to have someone with her who knew beyond a doubt that Draco was not guilty.

"I'm sure."

The two sat in silence for several minutes.

"Hopefully they will call you in to testify soon. You are a smart girl Hermione, don't do anything to put yourself in danger here," he warned.

Hermione was tense and anxious for this all to be over. She couldn't sit still, constantly bouncing her knees in terrified anticipation.

What if Draco was falsely imprisoned? What if they refused to listen to anyone and only saw the mark on his arm? What if she never saw him again? Her mind wouldn't give these thoughts a rest.

It felt like hours before the door opened and she was called into the room.

Heart pounding, Hermione entered the Wizengamot . Draco sat in the center and there were people; a lot of people, staring at her.

Another chair was summoned and the minister began his questioning.

"State your full name for the record," he demanded.

"Hermione Jean Granger," she replied in as confident a voice as she could muster.

"How do you know this man?"

"He was a classmate at Hogwarts."

"Is it true that he kidnapped you?"

"Yes but – "

"Are you aware of any Death Eater tasks that he may have had?"

"Yes."

"Did he use the cruciatus curse on a muggle?" Hermione did not like how this was going. They weren't even giving her any time to speak, simply to answer yes or no questions!

"Yes but – "

"And did he kill said muggle using the killing curse?"

"Let me explain!"

"Yes or no Miss Granger!" he yelled back.

"It was more complicated – "

"If you say anything more off topic you will be held in contempt! Answer the question!"

"No – "

"No, he did not kill the muggle?"

"He did but it –"

"Is the muggle dead or isn't he Miss Granger?"

"Yes, but Draco – "

"Thank-you Miss Granger, that is all!"

"But you never let me speak! I haven't told you anything!"

"You have told us plenty. Now, your time here is finished so if you could please leave the room."

"But Draco isn't guilty!" she shouted, close to tears.

"That is enough Miss Granger! Leave now, or you will be forcefully removed!"

Leaving the room, she felt as though the world was moving in slow motion but moving far too quickly at the same time. It was horrible and she knew exactly what was going to happen. Draco was going to Azkaban.

She felt it in her heart, a painful, stabbing sensation, as though she had been pierced through with a sword or dagger. Nothing could prepare her for the helplessness she now experienced. They just wanted to clean the wizarding world of any possible connections to Voldemort and Draco was about to pay the price.

"I take it did not go well," Lupin said.

All Hermione could do was shake her head as a single tear ran down her cheek. She sat down beside him again and he pulled her into a hug.

"If this goes badly we will appeal. We won't let him go down without a fight," he told her.

She nodded against him. She wouldn't let Draco go down without a fight.

* * *

Draco sat, stunned by what just happened. Hermione tried, she really did, but the Wizengamot was already convinced of his guilt. They had been before he had even entered the room.

"We have heard the evidence. Let us vote," the minister announced. "Voting guilty, raise your hand."

Draco watched as all around him, hands began to raise, and he saw his freedom coming to an end.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy. You have been found guilty to the charges of kidnapping, the use of unforgivable curses, and murder. The sentence of such heinous crimes is life imprisonment in Azkaban."

Draco's blood ran cold. He was going to die in a cell in that soul destroying prison. It was done. He really shouldn't have expected anything different, he was a Death Eater after all, and he had committed those crimes. But that didn't prevent the despair from rising within him.

He was never going to see Hermione again.

Draco felt numb as if it was all a dream. But it wasn't a dream and he knew it. His sentence to life in Azkaban was real. Too real.

Among the crowd of the Wizengamot, one woman stood. "Permission to speak minister?" she asked in a strong and confident sounding voice.

She demanded attention and was not going to be denied. She reminded Draco a lot of Hermione. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

The minister's eyes narrowed at her. "Granted," he stated slowly.

"Shouldn't we be completely certain of his involvement and intentions before sentencing a seventeen-year-old boy to life in Azkaban?"

"I thought we _were_ certain! There is no doubt that he committed these crimes!"

"Then it wouldn't be a problem to double check," she said.

"What are you suggesting?"

"Memories. True and unmodified memories. If he agrees to give them, they will prove for certain what his intentions were," she explained. "I'm sure they will simply clarify your claim of guilt," she added in an obvious attempt to please the minister.

He turned to Draco. "Provide the memories –

"From one day before, to one day after the crimes allegedly occurred." Everyone stared at the woman, who now glared back at the crowd as she returned to her seat.

"Fine," the minister agreed. "Provide the memories and we will reconsider. You will now be guilty unless proven innocent."

"I need to gain permission to release the memories," Draco said quickly. "They aren't completely mine to give. Hermione Granger was with me during that time. I can't give them to you without discussing this with her first."

"I have _never_ in my _life_ been this lenient to a Death Eater!" the minister turned to glare at the woman who had spoken up. "You have five minutes. If you have not re-entered by then, you will face the dementor's kiss, understood!?"

"Understood sir!"

* * *

Hermione paced the hall, walking nervously up and down, ignoring Lupin's plea to sit down. Walking kept the fear from eating her alive, it kept her sane.

She spun around quickly as she heard the door open.

"Draco!" she cried, running into his arms. "What happened?"

"I don't have long," he told her.

"I don't understand."

"They want the memories of that night and both a day before and after."

Hermione was still confused. Earlier, they wouldn't even let her finish a sentence and now they want to take the time to review memories?

"They found me guilty Hermione," he started to explain. "They wanted to sentence me to life in Azkaban but someone stood up and said it was wrong."

The rest of his life. Her eyes went wide. "Draco," she whispered, tears starting to spill over.

"Hey, it's not over yet. But I wanted to get your permission to show them the memories since –

"It's the snowy day we had our walk and our rather intimate time on the bathroom floor," she finished, understanding why he didn't want to just show them. "I don't care about the memories. Sure, they won't just be ours anymore, but I don't care about that. I care about _you_ Draco. We can make new memories that are just ours. But I don't want to lose you."

"Alright," he gave her a one last squeeze before pulling away. "I have to get back inside."

She watched again as he walked away, the next time to be seen, possibly in chains.

Hermione slumped down onto the bench, head in her hands.

"Oh gosh," she whispered.

"Hermione, it will work out. This is a good thing," Lupin assured her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

She took a deep breath. "All they'll see is that he did, in fact commit the crimes. Life in Azkaban? He's just a boy," she said, bewildered by the judgement.

Lupin took a deep breath beside her. "He is of age and the sentence for even using an unforgivable curse is life imprisonment. But he didn't do it of his own free will and they will see that. They are giving him a chance."

"At least one person in that room has a moral standard," Hermione agreed.

The waiting was agony; pure torture. Surely they will see the truth, see who Draco really is. He is not a monster, not a criminal, but a scared boy who did everything in his power to protect her. But Hermione can't stop the feeling from spreading dread through her heart that they won't.

That snowy day was the first time Hermione really saw who the real Draco Malfoy was. It was the first time she saw his genuine smile; the first time she had seen him truly laugh. Such a contrast from that night. That night when she held him as he sobbed. He had taken a life and it ripped a piece of him away. It was not the actions of a ruthless murderer, but a boy with a conscience who did what he was forced to do to survive.

It seemed as though the events occurred so long ago. But the past is haunting and has the potential to completely destroy any hope of a future.

These thoughts consumed her mind as she sat there, the minutes passing as though hours.

 _Life in Azkaban._

 _Life in Azkaban._

Draco didn't deserve it. He wouldn't hold up in that place. Hermione knew that wasn't where he belonged and that being there would completely destroy him.

After what seemed like forever, it was finally over. Hermione's head snapped up towards the door that had just reopened. Draco walked through with a slight smile on his lips. She slapped a hand over her mouth in delighted shock.

He wasn't in chains, he wasn't being guarded, he wasn't being moved immediately to his cell.

"Magical probation," he said, coming over to her.

"No Azkaban?" she asked.

He pulled her up into a tight embrace.

"No Azkaban," he whispered.

The tears she had been attempting to hold back all day broke loose as though a dam exploded and she sobbed against him.

"It's alright," he said softly. "And this time, I know for sure it is."

Lupin gave him a relieved pat on the back. "Let's go home."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **Hey! I hope you all had amazing weeks. This story is winding down and I think I'll have one** **more for you next week. It has ben quite the journey and went by quite a bit faster than I thought it would.**

 **Thanks to 4fanci, SkylarRose2, and TheLastEcho for your reviews! I really appreciate them!  
**

 **I do want to** **apologize if my writing quality has gone down over the past few chapters. I didn't think the new story would make a difference in this one, but I've never written multiple stories at once before and writing one in first person and one in third person gets kind of confusing. Maybe eventually I will come back to this one and re-edit but for now, I'm sorry if I've disappointed in my writing quality over the past few weeks.**

 **Thank-you everyone for reading, favouriting, following, reviewing and I hope you have a really great week.**

 **Update on the last chapter: I want to spend my time on this one and finish this story well so unfortunately I won't be posting today. Hopefully I'll have it done fore next week.**


	23. The Final Chapter

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the creator of Harry Potter**

* * *

1997 - April 18

He never thought it would be easy. He never thought the trial would fix everything if he happened to escape time in Azkaban. But he did think it would at least help his case.

Getting back to the Burrow after the trial, he met awkward silence. It was as if nobody quite knew how to act around him. Draco had sat with them at dinner, the normally loud and obnoxious table quiet and tense.

Things weren't easier. Instead of straight hostility, there was now an uncomfortable, uncertain, complicated silence and he just couldn't take it any longer.

Draco sat outside the strangely built home under a tree, watching the sun slowly dip below the horizon. This silence was tranquil, peaceful, calm. This was a silence he could handle. He needed to get away from everyone, be alone for a while.

He shook his head and dragged his fingers through his hair. After everything that happened, he should be happy, things had gone as well as they possibly could have; he wasn't in Azkaban, he was alive, he had Hermione's love. All these were things Draco didn't think could ever be true for him after the war was over.

But things weren't good and it astonished him that this thought crossed his mind. This was no happy ending, not how things should be. He may have Hermione on his side, but where any of the others stood was somewhat a mystery, and Bellatrix still being out there somewhere left a sick feeling in his stomach.

But what really surprised Draco was the realization that he wanted more and he was gradually learning that he deserved it. Yes, he did terrible things, but even the Wizengamot eventually realized that his good outweighed his bad. So, maybe Hermione was right about him.

Draco smiled to himself. Hermione's always right.

His eyes shot up when he heard the door open and a very awkward looking Harry Potter moving towards him. Draco's brows raised. What could Potter possibly have to say to him?

The way he walked with one hand rubbing the back of his neck and his eyes anywhere but at Draco made it seem as though he really didn't want to be doing this. So he wondered why. Why would Potter go out of his way to talk to him?

To Draco's surprise, the boy sat down beside him in the grass under the tree, though the silence continued. All he wanted to do was be away from all the people who didn't know how to act around him, get away from everyone uncertain if he was friend or enemy. And now Potter had to come and destroy that.

"Look," Potter started, still staring at the ground. "We will never be friends, you and I."

"No arguing there," Draco responded.

"Yeah, but Hermione is. So, I had to come out here." More silence. "I know what it's like to face the Wizengamot. If it wasn't for Dumbledore, I would have been expelled from Hogwarts before fifth year even started. They don't listen, they see a crime and they punish it, no matter what the context." Potter finally lifted his eyes to Draco. "For you not to get a sentence to Azkaban means that," he took a deep breath. "It means that what you said was true."

"Did Hermione put you up to this? Threaten you if you didn't?" Draco asked suspiciously.

Potter laughed dryly. "No. Does sound like something she'd do though."

"You know, when we were hiding out in the cabin, she told me that you and I could have been good friends."

"And what did you say?" he asked, amused.

Draco sighed. "I laughed. Felt kind of bad though because she was being serious."

"Wow. How could she have possibly gotten an idea like that in her head?"

Draco shrugged.

Potter took another deep breath. "Hermione is one of my best friends and apparently you saved her life when we had no clue what was going on. It's something I had a very difficult time wrapping my head around, but something I have to acknowledge. And I _cannot_ believe I'm saying this, but . . ." he paused, as if this was the hardest thing he ever had to say. "Thank you."

"What? Did Harry Potter just _t_ _hank_ a _Malfoy_?"

"Oh, don't rub it in," he said, shaking his head. "You're not going anywhere, are you." It was a statement rather than a question.

"I've got nowhere else to go," Draco admitted.

"And Hermione."

"And Hermione," he agreed.

"I don't want to see her hurt," Potter said, and Draco wasn't sure if it was simply a statement or a warning.

"I don't want that either."

"If you left, she'd be hurt. I'll never understand it, but for some reason she loves you. She's my friend and I want to understand, but I don't want to take her back through everything right now." He dragged a hand over the top of his head and back to his neck.

"What are you asking?"

"What really happened out there?" Potter asked.

"Really? You're really asking _me_?"

"I know she's been through a lot. I'm trying to be supportive, I really am." He shook his head sadly. "She told me why I wasn't with her at the trial. Because even though I supported her I didn't support you. She needed me and I wasn't there. So I'm asking for the truth. What happened?"

Draco was shocked. Potter believed he would tell the truth? He really wanted to know about how he and Hermione fell in love? And Potter asked _him_? Draco guessed the boy was worried about making Hermione relive the whole thing and what that would do to her considering what it all led to.

So he told him. Everything. Well, not everything exactly. There were some things that he didn't need to know, things that needed to stay between Draco and Hermione.

"Wait a second," Potter interrupted. "Snape. He was a Death Eater?" Draco nodded solemnly. "But he saved you?"

Draco sighed. "I was confused at first as well. I knew he was a Death Eater, but for him to know our location, he must have also been a part of the Order. A spy maybe. And yes. He died trying to save us; well he did save us. Gave me the time to send you that message."

"I knew something was off, I just didn't know what," Potter says quietly. "I thought it was something bad. The way he always treated us."

"Was rather amusing I must say," Draco added, getting a glare of warning in return.

There was silence between the two for a moment before Potter spoke again. "So, you really didn't do anything to her," he decides.

"No, I didn't. Not of my own will anyway."

"How did . . . _you_ turn into the . . . _hero_ in this story?" Potter asked, struggling for words.

Draco couldn't help the small laugh from escaping. "You sound so disgusted by the fact."

"Just never would have thought. Given our history."

"You must understand. I looked up to my father. He terrified me, but I believed every word he said. And he told me the Dark Lord was the hero and muggle-borns should never exist," he explained. "And then things changed. Probably more like, Hermione changed my perceptions."

Potter gave him a strange look. "You know, I wasn't completely honest with you before, when I said Hermione didn't threaten me."

"Figures," Draco replied, shaking his head.

"Well, not the coming out here part. But she did say I needed to give you a chance. Or else."

"Did she say the same to Weasley?" Draco asked, scrunching his nose in disgust.

"Ron? No. I don't think he's ready for a civil conversation. At least not right now. He knows how to hold a grudge, but he'll come around eventually. When he realizes that Hermione is more important to him than his dislike for you."

"And that's what you realized?"

"Precisely."

Across the yard, footsteps drew Draco's attention. Hermione was striding toward them, a smile on her face.

"No one bleeding, no one seriously injured, not even any yelling. I must say I'm impressed," she said.

"We are being . . . civil," Draco replied.

"Merely for your sake," Potter added.

"Of course. I wouldn't want to insinuate the two of you _actually_ getting along," Hermione stated.

"Right. Uh . . . good talk. I'll give you two some time alone," Potter said awkwardly, standing up to head back indoors.

"Thank-you. Both of you. I know its not easy, but I really appreciate you trying," she told them, taking Potter's place at Draco's side in the grass.

She took his hand in hers. "How are you doing? Really," she asked.

Draco shrugged. "Alright I guess. I should be ecstatic but things just feel so . . . unfinished."

"Things will get better. It's always hard at the beginning, and that's what this is; your beginning. You don't have hide who you are anymore," Hermione assured him.

"But they'll never accept me. Not really. And there's just so much . . . I don't know."

"Is this about Bellatrix?" she asked, her entire body tensing even at the witch's name.

"Maybe a bit."

"They'll find her," Hermione said confidently.

"How can you possibly know that?"

She gave Draco's hand a tight squeeze. "Because they won't stop looking until they do. She's probably the one person _everyone_ wants to see either dead or in Azkaban and you know how the ministry gets about people connected to Voldemort, especially those like her. She won't get away for long."

"I guess."

"And the others, they'll get used to the fact that you're not an enemy. It just might take a bit of time. They're used to seeing Malfoys a certain way, but you've already broken the stereotype," she told him.

There was a comfortable silence that surrounded them, one of hope, a promise of a future. Draco took a deep breath of the evening air and Hermione's head came to rest on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, feeling her warmth against him, seeping into his soul, shining a bit of light down that dark path.

"It's a beautiful night," she whispered.

The sun had nearly set leaving just a slight tinge of orange on the horizon, the sky becoming a dark, mystifying blue, accented by the shadows of trees.

"I thought I'd never see another night like this," he said truthfully.

Hermione took her eyes off the sky to look at him.

"I know. But you don't have to worry about that anymore. This is your beginning. And even though I don't know what the future holds, we'll do it together."

 _The End_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **It seems that we have come to the end of this story. Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, followed/favorited!**

 **To be honest, this is the first story I've ever actually finished. Ever. And I've started quite a few random things over the years. So it took me some time to figure out how to do it. I'm sorry if it was too short or a bit boring, I'm still working on my writing and would love any pointers you may have on ending a story. I tried to wrap things up the best I could, so let me know what you thought!**

 **Check out my other stories 'Pretty Little Choices' (an ending is coming at some point) and 'Good To You' - Both Dramione.**

 **Thank you all and I really hope you enjoyed the journey.**


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